


A is A: Glória Prometida

by Flyboy254



Series: A Is A [23]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Overwatch (Video Game), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-07 08:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16405214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyboy254/pseuds/Flyboy254
Summary: A call for help from the City of God sends Overwatch along with SG-1 and the Avatar to the slums of Brazil and a showdown between the past and future. As the battle rages, Overwatch must stare down a crushing realization.





	1. Chapter 1

**Glória Prometida**

* * *

Winston swung from his tire to the console, bringing up the file Torbjörn had sent him about an hour earlier. Smiling, Winston dragged it to the “Complete” file folder and started to compose a new email. He even started whistling as he typed.

 

“ _You’re in fine spirits today,_ ” Athena said. “ _The test was a success?_ ”

 

“Torbjörn said he ran a full diagnostic, and that the Bastion unit is perfectly safe.” Winston smiled and sent the email off to a contact in the Swedish government. “One less problem in the world, and possibly one more recruit for Overwatch. I’ve already asked Zenyatta to see to guiding the unit and helping it adjust.”

 

“ _I will admit that the concept of a Bastion unit willing to work alongside us is a fascinating idea,_ ” Athena said, only to bring up several opinion pieces on how Overwatch acting again was a terrible thing. “ _I’m sure that will win the rest of the world over._ ”

 

Winston sighed, pressing his glasses up against his nose. “You know that I had to do it. We still don’t know who the names were that Talon managed to seize.”

 

Athena brought up several newspaper clippings and web stories regarding former members of Overwatch being found dead. “ _You mean we don’t know if they found any more._ ”

 

Winston grunted, turning away from the screen. “Better that we at least have something to fight against Talon again. We won’t be like Blackwatch, we’ll fight them the right way.”

 

“ _I’m sorry Winston,_ ” Athena said. “ _You know I feel the same way, but it’s clear that no one else truly cares about Overwatch the same way we both do._ ”

 

“Then we keep working to make it right,” Winston said, planting his fist on his desk. “We won’t give up, no matter what happens.”

 

“ _Be that as it may Winston, you’re-_ ” Athena was cut off as a call appeared in the center of Winston’s monitors. Rolling over in his seat, Winston opened the call to see a glitchy, pixelated image of what looked like a dark-skinned man in a green tank top with long dreadlocks trying to adjust the camera.

 

“ _Yo, this thing-ing-ing on?_ ” The man tried to center the camera, but nothing could apparently be done about the quality of the video. “ _Hey, this is O-Overwatch right?_ ”

 

Winston tried to boost the gain of the signal as much as he could. “Yes, this is Overwatch, who is this calling?”

 

The man laughed, his image jerking about as the receiver tried to maintain a steady connection. “ _Aw, man, you don’t know who-who-who this is-s-s? Dawg, it’s the one and only!_ ” Winston shrugged. “ _Lúcio!_ ”

 

Winston shook his head. “Uh, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that name.”

 

The man on the call waved it off. “ _Pssssh. No big-eal. Hey, you guys still help people out-out right?_ ”

 

Winston nodded, moving closer to the screen. “Yes, yes of course we do!”

 

The man leaned in close to the camera. “ _Listen, I need your help in Rio then. You know Vishkar? Well they’re trying to push in on the favelas in Rio man. We need Overwatch’s help, and we need it now!_ ”

 

Winston nodded, already pulling up the roster of Overwatch agents. “Already on it, you’ll get them by the end of the week.”

 

Lucio grinned. “ _Hey, I knew it’d be great having you guys back. I’m sending you where they can fly to if you're still flying your own jets. Thanks again my man, I owe you one!_ ”

 

The feed cut, but before Winston could make the roster another call came up, this one priority. “What the? Yes, this is Winston.”

 

“ _Mr. Winston? This is Ralph Flores-Vasquez, with the NOAA Antarctic Ice Shelf Research project?_ ” The man was bundled up, his eyes obscured by a pair of snow goggles. “ _Listen, we found someone here you might want to talk to._ ”

 

Winston was about to ask for clarification when the camera turned to show a face he hadn’t seen in ten years. “My God!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

SG-1 and MV-3 trudged down the open ramp of the transport, Tracer blinking past them with a laugh. “Slowpokes, why is it you lot never move?”

 

“Maybe because jetlag plus your flying equals cranky Jack,” O’Neill grunted, dropping his pack on the dust by the landing pad. Scoping the area out, O’Neill had to admit to himself that the place looked pretty nice. Even with long exposure to the salty Atlantic air there was no ready sign of rust or wear, just sun-soaked walls and a few crates of supplies. Looking left, O’Neill realized that it wasn’t just a landing pad he was on, judging by the massive orange scaffold standing next to the pad. It was a launch point for rockets.

 

“Colonel, welcome to Gibraltar.” Turning back, O’Neill saw Pharah walking over in her flight suit. “Glad to have you at Overwatch’s new home.”

 

“Good to be here,” Carter said, smiling at the watchpoint. “You launch from here?”

 

“We used to,” Pharah said. “I remember watching some of the launches with my mother, it was amazing.”

 

Carter turned back to the launch pad, looking up at the construction. “I can’t wait to look at the rocket technologies here, it’ll probably save NASA so much trouble if we manage to replicate it back home.”

 

Pharah grinned. “Well for now, let’s get you all inside. Winston can explain why we called you all here.”

 

Smiling, Korra and Asami looked over the facility. All of it was metal, no masonry or brick anywhere. No obvious power lines running between the buildings, meaning it was all internal. Asami was still looking at it all with glee, because it meant that to ease maintenance they had put the wiring in locations still easily accessible. It made up for the fact that she still felt tired despite sleeping on the flight over.

 

Bolin whistled as he walked beside Daniel inside the watchpoint. “Wow, nice change of pace from inside the SGC. Kind of reminds me of Air Temple Island actually.”

 

Daniel looked around as he walked inside, seeing a control room with a holotable in the center with a globe hovering over it. “Really? How?”

 

Bolin shrugged. “Something about the isolation I guess.”

 

Daniel saw a bank of computer monitors at the far wall, around them several pictures of what looked like Overwatch in happier days. “I suppose so.” McCree and Reinhardt were already waiting, McCree with his boots kicked up on the holotable leaning back as Reinhardt went on about a story involving the Crusaders, Koblenz, and a brewery. Brigitte was tinkering with her shield generator on a separate table, as Mercy read over a tablet with a furrowed brow.

 

Winston came up from the second floor and smiled down on everyone. “Ah, good, you’re all here.” Leaping down and moving over with his arms and legs on the floor, Winston stood up and shook O’Neill’s hand. “It’s good to have you back, Col. O’Neill.”

 

“Good to be back doc,” O’Neill said. He had already decided to not just call him Dr. Zaius for a number of reasons. “So, you sent Tracer over saying there was something going on?”

 

“There is,” Winston said, backing up to the monitors. “But first, if you’ll direct your attention to the second floor, there’s a surprise guest.”

 

Everyone turned to the second floor, and the Overwatch members could help themselves. A young woman came to the railing, hair in a loose bun and her glasses looking worn. She wore an Overwatch t-shirt too big for her over shorts that looked too old. A miniature drone floated around her head, a dome-shaped blue bot with expressive electronic eyes. She smiled down on the assembled groups, waving meekly. “I’m back.”

 

Everyone affiliated with Overwatch jumped up with joy and started running for the stairs. “Mei!” Mei laughed, running down as everyone ran up with all of them meeting in the middle and wrapping Mei in a massed group hug. The laughter carried through the room as Winston eventually galloped over, wrapping everyone in his massive, fur-covered arms.

 

Bolin smiled and leaned over into Mako, wrapping his arms around his brother. “Awwww, ain’t it heartwarming?” Mako grinned and shoved Bolin back.

 

“I can’t believe it,” Mercy laughed. “You don’t look like you’ve aged a day!”

 

Mei laughed. “I could say the same for you Dr. Ziegler. And Reinhardt! You still look as strong as you ever did!”

 

“I’ve never felt stronger!” Still laughing, Reinhardt picked her up and swung her around. “And you’re back now! Another teammate back in our family!”

 

Mei laughed, the drone circling them all as she was set down. Hugging Reinhardt again, she turned to Tracer and Pharah. “I’m afraid I don’t know you two, I’m afraid. I’m Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou, climatologist.”

 

Tracer held out a hand through the throng. “Lena Oxton, callsign Tracer, nice to meet you!”

 

Mei smiled. “Nice to meet you too. And you?”

 

Pharah laughed. “It’s me, Dr. Zhou, Fareeha!”

 

Mei’s mouth dropped. “Fareeha? Fareeha Amari!?” Mei laughed, wrapping her arms around Pharah’s middle as she squealed in delight. “You’ve grown so big and strong!” From where she sat, Korra noticed Mercy blush a little. “Oh, what about your mother? Where’s Ana?”

 

The Overwatch team suddenly grew quiet and looked away as Pharah’s smile shrank. “My mother died in the line of duty several years ago. A Talon sniper took her.” Mei’s hands flew to cover her mouth, but Pharah shook her head. “She died as a soldier. It’s how she would have wanted to go.” Hugging Mei, Pharah laughed. “It’s just good to have my family back.”

 

O’Neill raised his hand. “Hey, guys? Not trying to be rude, but I thought we had a mission going on here.”

 

Winston cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Everyone this way.” Moving to the monitors, Winston waited for everyone to gather around the hologlobe before giving his briefing. “This is our second call for assistance as an organization since the Oasis incident. This one will affect a larger group of people, and show the world that Overwatch is back working as a force for good.” A pinpoint on the globe started to flash white, several pictures appearing including what to Korra looked like a statue of a man in a robe with arms stretched wide. “We’ve received a call from a man in Rio de Janeiro that there is a situation involving the favelas and residents in them. Apparently the Vishkar Corporation is considering extreme, and in this case legally questionable methods to take control of the remaining favelas that they haven’t developed.”

 

Pharah leaned back in her seat. “I thought Vishkar had been guaranteed the rights to develop those neighborhoods by the Brazilian government.”

 

“It seems that the local population trying to fight against it,” Winston said. “I received a call from a ‘Lucio’-”

 

Tracer jumped up. “Lucio! No way Winston, I’m so jealous, you got to talk to one of the best DJs in the world!”

 

Winston looked to the rest of the team, who all shrugged. “Uh, I suppose I did. Anyway, he’s mentioned that he needs our assistance in making sure Vishkar can’t push out the rest of the people in these neighborhoods. I called the MVTF for assistance because I knew that we might need the extra manpower.”

 

“And we’re glad to be here,” O’Neill said with a smile. “Always wanted to see Brazil. We rolling in now?”

 

“Actually, I’d prefer that we go in quietly,” Winston said. “Given that our actions in Oasis have gotten a rather mixed reaction, I’d prefer that we not make too many waves for our second mission. Especially in  such a heavily populated area.” Winston tapped at the computer again and showed a blue line leading from Gibraltar to Brazil. “No armor or weapons once you arrive, just scout the area and watch for any wrongdoing by Vishkar. If you see anything happening though, you know to make it right.”

 

“Sounds pretty straightforward for a change,” Korra said with a grin. “Bad guys, good guys, and a big city. Though,” she said as she pulled at her uniform. “I think we’ll need some better clothes to fit in?”

 

Tracer gave a thumbs up. “Leave it to me, I was planning on going out with Emily before leaving anyway!”

 

O’Neill looked over. “Emily being…”

 

Tracer grinned and winked. “My girlfriend, who else?”

 

O’Neill looked from Tracer to Korra and Asami. “A is A?”

 

Korra grinned and leaned her chair back. “Parker’s gonna love this.”

* * *

The sun was setting across the Atlantic as Tracer drove back onto the watchpoint in a rental. Carter grinned as the car rolled onto the base. Well, rolled wasn’t quite the right word, seeing as the car was hovering over the ground on four propulsion drives. “This is amazing,” Carter mused, kneeling down and feeling the faint heat emanating from the drives. “How’d you manage to fit the power necessary to supply all of these and still ensure the design principles of cars from back when I’m from?”

 

“Winston should have the necessary schematics and such when your lot figures out what it wants,” Tracer said with a laugh as she got out. Another woman got out on the passenger side, looking a world apart from Tracer. Long and flowing bright red hair compared to Tracer’s unruly pixie cut. A freckled pale face with a kind smile, compared to Tracer’s mischievous smirk. “And where are my manners? Maj. Carter, this here’s my girlfriend Emily.”

 

Emily waved at Carter. “Good afternoon major, nice to meet you.” Walking around the front of the car, Emily shook Carter’s hand. “Tracer’s told me about some of the missions she’s been on with you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the partners of the new Overwatch.”

 

“Thanks,” Carter said with a smile. “Thanks for the help with this too, Winston didn’t give us many details so we figured we should come equipped for a typical mission.”

 

Emily looked over Carter’s uniform. “A typical mission must be quite the time.”

 

Carter nodded. “You aren’t kidding.”

 

Tracer laughed. “C’mon, let’s all get these to the rest of the team. Time’s a-wasting after all.” Carter smiled as she got into the car, feeling the repulsors quickly adjust to the added weight before feeling nothing by air as it drove on into the Watchpoint.

 

Pulling into the base, Carter shook her head but kept her smile up as she took in the sight ahead of her. “Well, guess they need the practice.”

 

Korra and Mako were facing off against each other, circling in fighting stances as the teams cheered them on from the loading docks and railings. Mako and Korra were grinning, until Mako threw a fireball at Korra and charged. Korra deflected the blast into the air and rushed to meet Mako, the two trading jabs and deflecting kicks easily. Jumping back, Mako threw two more fireballs at Korra. Korra threw one into the rock and dissipated the other before jumping at Mako.

 

“Good Lord,” Emily whispered, watching as the two went back and forth. “You weren’t kidding babe, they really aren’t using any machines or fuel, they really are throwing fire at each other!”

 

Tracer giggled, pulling Emily close with an arm around the shoulder. “I know, no one’ll mess with Overwatch now.”

 

Korra and Mako went hand-to-hand again, dodging and ducking and deflecting evenly until Korra ducked low and rammed her shoulder into Mako’s gut. Off-balance, Mako was unable to stop Korra from sweeping his legs out from under him as she shoved into his chest. Falling back, Mako was only saved when Korra grabbed him and pulled him back up. Still grinning, Mako shook his head. “I thought we agreed no dirty tricks.”

 

“I know,” Korra said, grinning with smug satisfaction. “It’s why I didn’t let you fall in the dirt.”

 

O’Neill called down from the railing he stood at. “I’m calling that one for Mako on principle.”

 

Korra grinned as she shouted back, “You saying you want to go for a round O’Neill?”

 

O’Neill acted like the idea was rolling around in his head. “You know, as much as I’d love to, I’d rather watch other people get the crap beat out of them.”

 

“Oi you lot,” Tracer shouted, as Emily and Carter pulled bags of clothes from the back of the car. “C’mere, we got everything we’ll need for the mission!”

 

“Bout time,” O’Neill shouted. “We were about to throw Bolin in there.” Bolin looked at O’Neill in shock.

 

The clothes were quickly spread out as the sun set, the teams making their way to makeshift bunks to sleep for the flight the next morning. Mercy and Mei sat with Winston talking about what had been happening the past decade. From what O’Neill had been able to hear, it sounded like Mei had been in some kind of cryostasis for a while.

 

“All set sir,” Carter said, coming up behind O’Neill. “I’m about to turn in, you need anything?”

 

O’Neill shook his head. “You get some rest Carter.” As Carter walked off, O’Neill started to walk toward the conversation when he saw movement on the second floor. Looking up, he saw Tracer and Emily, arm in arm, nuzzling each other and giggling. Shaking his head, O’Neill went back to looking toward the gorilla talking to the medic and the human popsicle. “ _Yeah, that’s a more grounded conversation for me._ ”

 

Winston started laughing when he saw O’Neill approach. “Colonel. Here, let me get another seat, I’ll let you get acquainted.” Winston jumped away before O’Neill could say anything, leaving him to improvise.

 

“Hi,” O’Neill said, turning to Mei. “Col. Jack O’Neill, that’s two Ls, nice to meet you.”

 

Mei nodded, shaking O’Neill’s hand. “Mei-Ling Zhou, it’s a pleasure to meet you colonel. More than a pleasure actually, it’s exciting. Alternate universes, traveling dimensions? I mean I never would’ve dreamed it unless I saw that fight between Korra and Mako earlier.”

 

“Yeah, you get used to it.” O’Neill shrugged. “So what about you? What I heard you’ve been away a while.”

 

Mei seemed to shrink on herself as the little hovering drone’s eyes went down. “I was. I was posted at the Eco-Point in Antarctica, monitoring a climatic anomaly almost directly over the South Pole.”

 

O’Neill nodded. “Well I hope you didn’t run into any crazy Norwegians, that usually never goes well in the South Pole.”

 

Mei chuckled and shook her head. “It might interest you to know, our team’s leader was named R. J. MacReady.” O’Neill’s head tilted automatically.

 

“It’s just good to have you back with us,” Mercy said, patting Mei’s hand. “I know the doctors at the research station gave you a clean bill of health, but I want you to rest for at least a month. I don’t want you to overexert yourself after what you’ve been through.”

 

Mei giggled, the drone settling into her lap. “I won’t Angela, I promise I’ll take my rest long enough to make sure there weren’t any side effects.”

 

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” O’Neill said wistfully. “Sometimes I wonder if it was being trapped in that virtual reality memory pod or being turned into a robot was the weirdest thing involving being trapped in a coma.”

 

Mei and Mercy both shared a look as Winston came over with a chair, putting it behind O’Neill. “Well, there we are.” Smiling, Winston went back to his place and sat across from O’Neill. “So tell me colonel, how’s things back in 2001?” Mei’s jaw dropped.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

The teams loaded up, Pharah checking everyone over. Bolin and Mako were dressed in shorts and t-shirts, Tracer had decided to be a little clever on that score: Mako wore a shirt with a blazing fire design on the front, while Bolin had the Rock of Gibraltar plastered over his chest. Asami wore more form fitting shorts and sneakers, with a loose blouse hanging off of her compared to Korra’s tight blue top and jeans. “Alright, you’ll pass for tourists. If anyone asks, you’ve Americans from San Francisco. Unless that person is from California, then you’re Americans from New York.” The four shared a look but said nothing.

 

McCree strolled to the booth in the transport, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, baggy khaki shorts, and wearing a pair of oversized aviator sunglasses. Cigar firmly between his teeth and BAMF belt buckle prominently displayed, he tilted his Stetson down over his eyes and settled in for the ride.

 

“Ah, I remember a holiday I had in Argentina after the crisis.” Reinhardt smiled wistfully as he boarded the transport. “Argentina, it was just after I joined Overwatch. Ah, such a beautiful country.” Reinhardt grinned at a memory. “With beautiful company.”

 

“Okay old man, sit down before you hurt yourself.” Face in mock disgust, Brigitte settled into the nearest free seat and started strapping herself in. “Need any help major?”

 

Carter shook her head, adjusting the last of the straps holding the gear in the rear of the transport. “All good Brigitte. Any last-minute orders colonel?”

 

O’Neill shook his head, his ballcap also covering his eyes. He and Daniel both looked perfectly dressed for Rio, jeans and t-shirts ready, but Teal’c had wound up in a Panama hat and cream suit looking rather pleased that Tracer had found what he requested. To Carter he almost looked like a drug kingpin from some cheap 80’s action flick. “ _Actually, he might think this is how people in Rio all dress._ ”

 

“Call me the second you settle in babe,” Emily said, kissing Tracer on the ramp. “Promise?”

 

“Course love. Now go on, else you’ll be late for work come Monday!” With a blink, Tracer was suddenly at the stairs leading to the cockpit, Pharah sitting at the comm controls. “Watchpoint this is Orca 1, requesting clearance for departure.”

 

“ _Roger Orca 1, cleared for departure on heading 263. Good luck Tracer._ ”

 

“Thanks Athena, see you in two weeks! Hope you lot are all buckled in!” Laughing, Tracer pressed the throttle and sent the Orca soaring off into the Western sky.

* * *

McCree grinned as he threw his cards on the table. “Full house kid, read’em and weep.”

 

Bolin groaned, burying his face in his hands as McCree won another round of poker. “Uggggh! There’s no way you keep winning like this, I swear you’ve _got_ to be cheating.”

 

“Now what ever would give you that idea.” McCree made sure that the very tip of an ace of spades showed from his left wrist.

 

As McCree kept taking Bolin to town, O’Neill, Carter, Pharah, and Korra were gathered around the holotable. “For the past few months the Vishkar Corporation has been making an especially noticeable effort to secure the rights to redevelop the favelas, particularly the City of God.” Pharah tapped at the table and focused in on Rio, with the City of God flashing just next to it. “Officially Vishkar has been upfront and equitable in all dealings. However, we found this.”

 

The hologram shifted to accommodate a website with a Portuguese headline that was quickly translated. “Calado Construction was also bidding on the rights to redevelop the area. They managed to underbid Vishkar and had a full, detailed plan to ensure affordable housing for all citizens. Before the contracts could be finalized, their headquarters was destroyed in a ‘natural gas’ accident.”

 

O’Neill nodded. “S’why you gotta call the company if you smell those rotten eggs.”

 

Pharah grinned at the joke. “Vishkar won the contract, but after the first developments were finished there was a popular resistance against them. Led by this man.” A new image appeared, of a young man with long dreadlocks wearing what looked like some kind of green-bladed ice skates. “Lúcio Correia dos Santos. He was known as a popular DJ before the developments, but ever since he’s been an outspoken critic of Vishkar’s efforts.”

 

Carter nodded. “Is he from the area?”

 

“Born and raised in the City of God.” Pharah brought up several articles and pages about Lúcio’s rise in the music world. “Apparently as he was building a following Vishkar made their first attempts to develop the region. Lúcio led a popular movement, at times with some violent action, to halt the process and ensure that the people within the favelas could have their decisions heard as well. The Brazilian government didn’t want a popular uprising in their slums spreading, so they halted the contract pending further review.”

 

O’Neill looked over. “The sounds of this story make it seem like something has changed.”

 

“It has,” Pharah said, bringing up several Brazilian news articles. “Athena said the translation is that criminal gangs in the region are becoming more active against favela residents. It’s only in the local Brazilian media for now, and even then the stories are curiously buried.”

 

“Vishkar’s pressuring the media,” Daniel said, sounding sullen. “If they have a government contract they’ll do anything to keep it.” His eyes drifted to the picture of a burning Calado headquarters.

 

“We’ll be arriving in an hour,” Pharah said. “Lúcio managed to find us a hangar to use while we’re in the city. That will be our fallback point if this goes wrong.” Pharah grinned. “Of course, with a living god on our side, I don’t anticipate any problems.”

 

Korra waved off Pharah’s words. “Please, I’m just as human as the rest of you, I put my pants on one leg at a time like everyone else.” A beat. “But don’t be afraid to keep the compliments coming.”

 

“So no one else is worried about civilian casualties?” Daniel pointed to an image of a particularly crowded building. “I mean even where we’re from the favelas are intensely crowded areas, I mean the Brazilian military had to make a special unit just to handle crime in them if I’m remembering correctly.”

 

“As long as we keep the bending to what we’d use in the arena and you’re all careful with the shooting we should be good.” Korra looked over to Reinhardt. “Hear that big guy? No smashing buildings with the hammer.”

 

Reinhardt laughed. “Only my enemies, Ms. Korra! The innocent will never taste my steel.”

 

Korra smiled as she turned to look back at the reports. “So, what about Vishkar? Anything on them?”

 

“Nothing that Athena could find that we didn’t already know,” Pharah said, sounding disappointed as she traded the articles on Rio for information on Vishkar. “After the Omnic Crisis they became a megacorporation, rebuilding huge swathes of India and providing jobs for millions. What made them such a power is their hard-light technologies.”

 

Carter looked at the information, and taking a chance touched one of the articles and dragged it to the side as she read it. “I’m gonna guess that this was just a public nomenclature, none of this has anything to do with actually holding light particles in a solid state.” Pharah nodded. “Alright, one more to chalk up on the ‘Makes no sense right now’ board.”

 

Daniel nodded. “At this point we’re gonna need a room for this universe alone.”

 

“Well nothing to worry about now,” Korra said, looking over to a sleeping Asami. “Better wake her up so she doesn’t get surprised when we land.” Leaving the conversation, Korra knelt next to Asami and gently shook her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Babe, we’re almost there.”

 

Asami’s eyes ripped open, her face jerking to Korra before calming down. “Oh, hey babe.”

 

Korra’s leaned closer. “Hey, you okay? Bad dream?”

 

Asami nodded. “Yeah, not exactly the best to fly on. I’ll be fine though, we almost there?”

 

“Yeah, just under an hour to go.” Korra scanned Asami’s face. Despite the rest, it didn’t look like Asami had gotten anything from it. “Asami, are you sure you’re alright? Gen. Hammond won’t give you any trouble if you decide to head back to the SGC.”

 

Asami smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m fine.” Checking her straps, Asami looked up at the hologram. “So what kind of city is Rio?”

 

“You’re about to find out,” Pharah said, walking to the nearest seat. "Arrival in one minute.”

 

The Orca started to descend, and as everyone moved for their seats to strap in Tracer’s face appeared over the holotable. “Here we are you lot, Rio de Janeiro!” The image turned to face the city, and MV-3’s faces broke into wide smiles. The city stretched around the bay, a massive rock formation jutting out just at the mouth of the bay. Towering white buildings rose toward the center of the city, boats speeding about around the harbor as a statue in the distance spread his arms out at the city. Bolin whistled. “Man, it almost looks exactly like Republic City.”

 

Daniel didn’t speak as the City of God came into view. “ _More than you think._ ”

 

The Orca descended hard, banking around the edge of the city on a low approach into the outskirts of the city. Barely skimming the water, Tracer guided the craft straight on an approach toward a warehouse on the waterfront with open bay doors. As the sun hung in the afternoon sky, Tracer swung the Orca around and backed it into the hangars. O’Neill nodded, he didn’t bother hiding the respect for a pilot that could pull off such a trick.

 

The Orca settled onto the floor of the warehouse, and Tracer blinked down the stairs with a smile. “Nice bit of piloting, if I say so m’self.”

 

O’Neill nodded as he unbuckled from his seat. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. Not many pilots out there that can pull a 180 in flight and then reverse into a landing. You’ve got skills.”

 

“And don’t forget it buster.” Taking off her accelerator and goggles, Tracer stuffed them in a worn backpack with old patches sewn on it and gave a wink. “It’s amazing with a change of clothes can do for you.”

 

O’Neill looked over at the towering, bulky form of Reinhardt hefting a massive kitbag like it was nothing but groceries. “Yeah, we’re real inconspicuous now.”

 

Pharah tapped on the panel beside the door and led the way out. “C’mon, Lúcio should be waiting for us.”

 

The door fell outward, and Pharah headed the procession down to the hangar. Waiting were a group of men, almost all of them glowering and glaring at the windows and doors with weapons in-hand. Only one of them, dressed in green with baggy blue jeans, looked happy to see the team. “Hey, yo, Overwatch in the house! Man I’m so glad to see you guys here.”

 

“We’re glad to assist. I’m Pharah, leader of this team.”

 

Lúcio shook Pharah’s hand and smiled, but looked around her to see the number of people coming off the transport. “Woah, there’s a lot of you guys. I thought Overwatch was just getting back together.”

 

“We never forget who our friends are,” Pharah said with a grin. “It’s a pleasure to-”

 

Tracer jumped between Pharah and Lúcio. “Oh my gosh, I know you must hear this so much Lúcio but I’m such a fan! I love your music, my girlfriend and I just got your latest tracks and we can’t stop listening to them!”

 

Lúcio laughed, grabbing Tracer’s hand and pulling her close for a quick hug. “Hey, I never get tired of hearing that I have fans. I’m just glad you bought the album, every sale goes right to the favelas.”

 

“Speaking of?” O’Neill held up a hand. “We going to be getting there any time soon?”

 

“Nah, you guys can’t stay in the favelas,” Lúcio said, waving the idea away. “Vishkar’s looking to hurt anyone inside the favelas, but they can’t really act too blatantly outside them.” Grinning, he held up a blank check. “Thankfully, my work’s given me a little disposable cash to set you all up.”

 

Reinhardt snorted. “We should be staying with the people we protect,” he barked. “I’ll take no soft bed when I know that the victims of such cruelties must sleep in fear in the night.”

 

Bolin suddenly called out, “Dibs on his bed!”

 

Lúcio waved it off. “Nah, trust me, we all understand keeping you guys in your own digs while you’re here. Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of.” Mako shifted his pack as he followed the team, eyeing Lúcio and the men but saying nothing as they got into a set of vans waiting outside the warehouse. “We’ll get your luggage to the hotel, after that we’ll-”

 

“Luggage stays with the plane,” O’Neill said firmly. Emphasizing the point, the Orca’s doors all shut and the craft let out an audible hiss of escaping air. “Don’t need a bellboy finding the good stuff.”

 

Lúcio grinned. “Fair ‘nough. C’mon, let’s get you guys set up.”

 

Loaded up and rolling, Asami’s face was glued to the window as they drove through Brazil. The city was alive in a way Republic City wasn’t, every person wearing bright colors mixed with mechanical beings like Zenyatta, Omnics, walking among the crowded sidewalks. Cars hovered across the streets, and she saw stands on the sides of the streets hawking food, clothes, and cell phones all at once. Clothes and food, that was just another day in Republic City. The cell phones were another matter. Being able to just buy one and bring it back to study, that would revolutionize communication through the United Republic. Some people even had artificial limbs like McCree, and no one was even looking twice! Asami laughed, unable to contain her excitement. Overwatch’s universe was what the United Republic could be, and she had the ability to make it real through Future Industries.

 

The hotel was a massive tower of white masonry and glass, the gold lettering out front reading, “ _O Grande Hotel do Rio de Janeiro_ ”. In English next to it, “The Grand Hotel of Rio de Janeiro.” O’Neill couldn’t help himself. “Well thank God for the translation, otherwise I wouldn’t have any idea where we are.”

 

Setting their bags in their rooms, Tracer chuckled as they came back down to see Lúcio being surrounded by eager fans begging for an autograph and a picture and Tracer was pretty sure there was a request for a kiss somewhere in there. “Gotta give him credit, he can draw’em in.”

 

O’Neill shrugged as he walked through the lobby. “Eh, he’s no Uma Thurman.”

 

Tracer waved the comment off. “Please, Uma Thurman didn’t have any big hits after _The Producers._ Now Jessica Chastain?” Tracer growled playfully. “Now there’s an actress.”

 

O’Neill rolled his eyes. “Oh please, Uma’s got the entire setup. The hair, the face, the acting ability,” O’Neill held his hands in front of his chest. “I mean it’s all right there.”

 

“But Chastain has the wider acting range,” Tracer said, pointing a finger at O’Neill. “Plus, you can’t _ever_ beat a woman who’s got authentic red hair.” Tracer narrowed her eyes and grinned. “Trust me, I know.”

 

O’Neill paused in the lobby for a second. “I think I’m starting to understand this lesbian thing.”

 

Tracer laughed and slapped O’Neill on the back. “I knew we’d break through to you eventually.”

 

Daniel and Carter stood back, Daniel shaking his head with a bemused smile. “Jack getting advice on women from actual women. That’s it, I’m throwing in with the Goa’uld.”

 

Carter laughed as she went for the front doors. “Hey, if they can get through to the colonel then maybe there’s hope to break through to Parker.”

 

“Oh, I hope so,” Daniel said, following the teams back out into the hot Rio day. “So what do you think of Lúcio?”

 

Daniel shrugged. “Eh, I can’t get that good of a read on him yet. I mean him fighting to protect his old neighborhoods isn’t that strange, but I agree with Reinhardt. Something about putting us up in the hotel doesn’t make a lot of sense if we’re supposed to be protecting the favelas.”

 

“Well the favelas aren’t exactly a safe place to set up operations,” Carter observed. “Probably better to be here where we won’t risk having to make a quick escape or leaving anything behind.” Daniel nodded, but noticed Mako staring at Lúcio with interest.

 

Moving back onto the streets, Lúcio turned back and grinned to them. “I figured it’d be a good idea to get you all used to Rio on the ground. Just keep following me, we’ll get to my old digs in no time.”

 

“Not a bad idea,” O’Neill noted, grinning as he donned his sunglasses. “Everyone split into groups, keep each other in sight and if you get separated head for the hotel. We’ll be back soon enough. Okay kid, lead the way.”

 

The drive had been one thing, but being able to walk the streets was another world. The city was alive with motion, people calling to each other as the traffic hummed beside them. Music pumped from sidewalk cafes as street bands played for money from the tourists. Bright white buildings stretched into the skies, sleek and perfect while the people walked about in any variety of clothes. Some were brightly dressed tourists in the Hawaiian shirts O’Neill expected, while others seemed to be dressed like they were out of some old movie from the ‘50s. “Hey, Amari, what’s the story here?”

 

Pharah looked through the crowds. “Oh, you mean the clothes? Well, lately a lot of popular shows are being done in the noir style, with clothes to match. It's starting to take off as a big trend.”

 

“Huh,” Daniel said, watching as several groups of women staring happily at Teal’c in his white suit. “Well, everything old is-” He saw the warning look O’Neill was giving him. “Uh, everything old is still old and might be dug out of storage later?”

 

O’Neill shook his head. “Slipping Daniel, slipping.”

 

Tracer watched as MV-3 surveyed the city, gawking at the sleek white towers and Omnic citizens mingling with the human population. “Quite a sight, ain’t it?”

 

“You aren’t kidding sister,” Korra said, face still split in a grin. Asami wasn’t talking, she was clearly busy taking enough mental notes to fill a textbook. “I mean this is all amazing, I can’t believe there’s machines walking and talking like people still. I thought Zenyatta and the monks were a special case.”

 

“Yeah, Omnics have been a part of life for us since about thirty years ago. They were made like how I guess everyone expected robots to be, a ‘great driver of economic progress’,” Tracer said, sounding like an advertisement. “Course, you know how it goes. Man builds robot, robot decides it doesn’t want to be a slave, robots rebel against man.”

 

Korra didn’t bother hiding her confusion. “Uh, no, actually, I had no idea that’s how it goes.”

 

“Well take this as an object lesson,” Tracer said, shrugging. “Say, wait a tic, you’re from a 1920s time right?”

 

Korra thought for a second. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Oh, I need you to teach me how to dance,” Tracer said. “Emily’s been banging on about getting us to go to lessons together, but I never have the time what with Overwatch being recalled.”

 

“Tell you what,” Asami said, staring at a hovering semi-truck. “If you can help me get my hands on some of these hovering cars, I’ll teach you both all the latest dance moves from the Republic.”

 

As the three talked, Bolin seemed to be led through the city by his nose. “Okay, this city has the best food I think I’ve smelled yet. What is that and how do I get enough of it for the rest of my natural life?”

 

“It’s real Brazilian BBQ man,” Lúcio said, grinning. “Don’t worry, you’ll get enough while you’re here. Nothing’s too good for you guys if you’ve helping out my old neighborhood.”

 

Bolin wrapped Lúcio in his arms. “I’m never letting you go.”

 

Daniel kept looking around at the city. “You know I’ve seen plenty of pictures of Rio, a lot of these buildings look almost like carbon copies of each other though.”

 

Lúcio rolled his eyes. “Vishkar won the contract to redevelop most of the government buildings after what happened to Calado. When they started moving into the favelas though, that’s when things started picking up.” Daniel dropped the subject.

* * *

Asami had been asking about the Orca when she realized that something had changed. There were no more bright gleaming towers of the smells of delicious BBQ. There were no more hovering cars or well-dressed men and women. She’d been ripped from her questions back to reality.

 

The sounds of the neighborhood suddenly hit the group. Babies crying from a dozen directions at once as small voices screamed through the crowded streets. Corner stores looking like they'd been through a hurricane of filth sat with half-empty displays in the windows with men and women that would normally be working sitting on the street corners. Bolin saw a man laying on the side of the street, and he realized with horror that the children playing around him had no shoes when there were used needles scattered about. “This is it everyone,” Lúcio said, losing some of the pep in his voice. “Welcome to the City of God.”

 

Everyone followed Lúcio, the large and strange group earning stares from the locals. Old women and mothers leaned out of windows, looking to O’Neill like they were scoping out a target from cover. Children hurried away, scrambling through cracks between the buildings that must’ve counted for alleys, or scurried up the sides like oversized spiders. On one street a liquid flowed into a rusted drain, and no one wanted to focus on the smell assaulting their noses. The buildings were built like there was no thought in them, apartment floors overhanging each other covered with tin roofs and exposed power lines connecting them all in great rats nests. Asami’s ideals of engineering were hurting just looking at it all.

 

Mako went close to Bolin. “You’re thinking it too aren’t you.”

 

“You know it,” Bolin said back, looking down a cramped street to see a trio of tattooed men glare back at them. “Just like Dragon Flats.”

 

“This area is a nightmare for combat O’Neill,” Teal’c said quietly. “Whatever Vishkar’s methods are, they will either utilize the confines of this area or negate it completely.”

 

“I figured that too big guy,” O’Neill said, his eyes darting everywhere from behind his sunglasses. “Just play it cool for now and we’ll compare notes when we get back to the hotel.”

 

Reinhardt’s fists clenched. “Despicable. These fools in the city government, they shouldn’t be allowed to even play dog catcher if they let their people live in such conditions.”

 

Brigitte shook her head. “But how did it get this bad? Didn’t anyone realize what was happening?”

 

“They did,” Reinhardt growled, looking at the sight of a man stabbing a needle into an arm that already looked ready to fall off from gangrene. “They didn’t care.”

 

Korra felt her heart aching, trying to rip out of her chest and do something to stop what she was seeing. She wasn’t naïve, not after living for three years as an outcast. She’d seen places like this, fought in them, bled in them. What she couldn’t shake was the human life in them. Being the Avatar, she was a spiritual bridge, and human emotion was a spiritual thing. She’d heard MV-7 had a member who could feel emotions, and that wasn’t Korra. Still, she couldn’t fight off the sense that she was being overwhelmed by suffering in this place. “How can anyone live like this?” No answer. “Babe?”

 

Asami was on autopilot, barely shuffling along with the rest of the team through the pockmarked streets and foul air. The buildings made her brain hurt, but the sights of the people in them were worse. Children in worn clothes, hiding when she looked anywhere near them. Men pushing their wives and children behind them as the team walked through. One old woman looked Asami in the eye, and turned away shaking her head. Asami saw Mako turn to her, then turn away. “ _This is what he grew up in?_ ” Asami shuddered, grabbing onto Korra for support. “ _This is what people are living in_ now? _”_

Lúcio stopped in the middle of an intersection, and grinned. “City of God,” he shouted out, drawing everyone’s attention. “It’s your boy Lúcio, and I’m back with help!” People started to look out of their homes, a crowd starting to form around Lúcio and the team.

 

O’Neill edged closer to Lúcio. “Hey, kid, I don’t think this is exactly the best idea-”

 

“I just got help from the baddest dudes and dudettes on the planet,” Lúcio said, shouting to anyone who could hear. Though from what O’Neill was hearing, the kid had a voice loud enough that he could deafen Keith Moon a second time. “You might not know, but they’re back and they’re fighting for the people!” Stepping aside, Lúcio motioned to the team with a wide grin. “It’s Overwatch, and they’re here to fight for us!”

 

“Overwatch” got everyone’s attention, and suddenly the intersection was rapidly filling with people. SG-1 tried to look away from the crowd as the people started pulling out cell phones with cameras in them, as Asami pressed into Korra. For her part, the Avatar had a growing anger in her eyes from how Asami was reacting.

 

“Hey, Lúcio, this isn’t the place,” Mako said firmly. “Aren’t there any leaders we can talk to around here? People that might be able to help?”

 

Lúcio looked back at Mako with surprise, but quickly started smiling again. “Sure man, no problem. Just follow me through, we’ll meet with the guys that’re fighting against Vishkar.”

 

Mako nodded, following behind Lúcio’s companions as they cleared a path through the crowd. Tracer grinned at the crowd, Reinhardt roaring and flexing, but Mako didn’t share their exuberance. Something was clicking in his brain, but he wasn’t sure what yet. For all he knew, this was just how Lúcio was.

 

Moving toward one of the larger buildings, Lúcio’s guards waited outside as he swaggered in with a smile. A group of middle-aged men and women looked up from a table in the center of the room, a map sprawled out on it with red Xs scattered through it. One man with a thick, glorious mustache and a long flowing head of hair looked up in shock. “Lúcio, you’re back already? I thought your tour would at least take another month.”

 

“I heard that Vishkar was about to make another attempt on the favelas,” he said, wrapping his arms around the man. “I got them, I got Overwatch to come help us.”

 

The man’s eyes went wide as he looked back to the group stepping inside the room. “God almighty,” he whispered, stepping forward. “Welcome, all of you. I’m Ignacio, I suppose I’m one of the leaders trying to fight Vishkar.”

 

“Pharah.” The soldier held out her hand and shook with Ignacio. “We assembled as soon as we could, we’re sorry it took so long.”

 

“Don’t be, we honestly didn’t think you’d be here at all.” Speaking to the other leaders in Portuguese, they stepped back from the map. “Please, come look at this.” O’Neill, Korra, and Pharah joined Ignacio around the table. “We’ve been able to try and build up support for a local plan to aid the favelas, but three weeks ago the local gangs went crazy.”

 

Korra looked over the map. “I’m guessing these Xs are places where the gangs have hit.”

 

Ignacio nodded. “We’ve tried to find a pattern, to predict where they’ll strike next, but we haven’t managed it yet. All we can do is try to chase them off, but then they started getting machine guns.” The man’s face turned away from the team. “We’ve taken too many casualties.”

 

“Well good thing getting shot at ain’t new for us,” O’Neill said, checking the map.

 

Bolin glared at O’Neill. “Hey, speak for yourself.”

 

O’Neill read over the map, noting the Xs. “Pharah, you seeing what I am?”

 

“Indeed colonel,” Pharah said, placing a hand on the map. “There is nothing to see.”

 

Lúcio shook his head. “Okay, look, I’m not soldier or nothing but I don’t understand a word you just said.”

 

“Normally, you’d have the gangs being targeted at specific locations where there’s the most resistance.” O’Neill motioned at the scattered Xs. “Here it looks like there’s no pattern. They’re just striking at random causing terror. They aren’t trying to intimidate, Vishkar’s probably using them to create a media circus. Where’s the BOPE?”

 

“They were practically destroyed in the Omnic Crisis,” Ignacio said. “Now there’s too few of them to do anything but keep the gangs contained to the favelas.”

 

“Leaving it up to Vishkar to make the case that the government can’t solve the problem.” O’Neill nodded. “I’m guessing the gangs are made up of junkies and thugs? Typical extras from your run-of-the-mill 80s action movie?”

 

“Uh, yes?” Ignacio and Lúcio shared a confused look. “Some of the gangs have Omnics, but not many.”

 

“We can handle them too,” O’Neill said, getting a grin. “One last question, where’s the nearest costume shop?”

 

Ignacio leaned over to Lúcio. “Are you sure this is the same Overwatch?” Lúcio shrugged, but couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Whatever was going to happen, it would be interesting.

* * *

Back at the hotel, the teams were gathered in O’Neill’s room. Daniel shuddered as he replayed the images from the day. “You know, I’ve seen a lot with you Jack, but that just shook me.”

 

O’Neill shrugged. “Don’t know why Daniel, especially after being on P7J 381.” Daniel paused, nodding at the point.

 

Asami shook her head, glaring at the carpet. “I can’t believe people can stand to live like that.”

 

“They don’t choose to,” Mako said, not looking over. “Some of them are probably barely able to make ends meet, or they just gave up on trying to find a better way to live.”

 

“You didn’t.” Asami looked out the windows onto the ocean view outside the hotel room. “You and Bolin, neither one of you ever gave up. You got out of Dragon Flats.”

 

“Bolin and I got lucky getting out of Dragon Flats,” Mako said, keeping his eyes shut. “If we hadn’t met you and Korra when we did, we would’ve been back running with the Triads.”

 

“But you didn’t,” Asami said, gripping her hands so tight her knuckles were white. “Mako, some of those kids didn’t look like they’ve eaten in days. Why are they so hostile to Vishkar trying to help?”

 

Mako finally opened his eyes. “You think they’re setting those gangs on people to help them? I can’t believe you’d say that.”

 

“I’m not saying that,” Asami said. “But if Vishkar tried to help before and got pushed off by a group of fighters, well how do we know Lúcio’s telling the whole story?”

 

Korra looked over nervously. “Babe, I told you what we learned on the flight over.”

 

Asami groaned. “I know, you did, but we only know Lúcio’s side of the story right now. We should at least contact Vishkar and make sure we know what’s going on from the other side of the equation before just diving in on this.”

 

Mako glared at Asami. “Look, I’ll agree we need to get Vishkar’s side of the story. Something about how Lúcio acted today set me off.”

 

“What?!” Tracer blinked over to Mako, causing the firebender to jump. “You heard what he said, Vishkar’s been at this bollocks for a minute!”

 

Mako backed away from Tracer. “Yeah, but without proof we can’t take them down. You heard Winston, you want to make Overwatch something people want to have helping them right?”

 

“He’s right,” Pharah said with a hard tone. “Once we have undeniable proof that Vishkar is behind the gang attacks, we take it to the authorities. Understood?” The Overwatch team mumbled yes, but McCree was quieter than the others.

 

“I still say we go talk to Vishkar,” Asami said firmly. “O’Neill, what do you think?”

 

O’Neill groaned. “Well if we’re trying to get their side of the story we don’t have much of an option. Mako, you and Mercy go with her.”

 

McCree raised the brim of his hat. “What, you don’t think the rest of us are properly dressed?”

 

“No, I don’t think that you’d leave that building intact. Anyway, if we know Vishkar is playing dirty, why do you want to negotiate with them?”

 

Asami glared at O’Neill. “Maybe because they might just want to do some good for the people here. Or are all corporate interests just soulless money machines?” Standing, Asami moved for the door. “I’m going to bed.”

 

Korra watched Asami retreat, then turned to Mako when she was out of the room. “That was hard and you know it.”

 

“Hey, she should know that her situation and this one are two completely different things,” Mako said. “Honestly, I’m worried about Asami. I mean has anyone else noticed that she hasn’t been sleeping well lately?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I’ve noticed too.” Daniel rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. “I mean I didn’t want to say anything, but the past few times we’ve been on a mission with her she seems a little out of it.”

 

“She’ll figure it out soon enough,” O’Neill said. “Alright, once we run into the gangs and send’em into their holes we’ll be in a good position to talk with Vishkar. Everyone turn in, we’ve got a long few days ahead of us.”

 

As the team spread out to their rooms, a solitary figure tracked them through the hotel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4  
**

* * *

Bolin walked the favela streets with Pharah and McCree, dodging out of the way as a group of kids ran past kicking a soccer ball. “So I get the whole ‘machines with emotions’ thing, but why is it that they went haywire?”

 

“We’re still trying to find that answer,” Pharah said, her aviators reflecting the sun like they were Gen. Hammond's head. “Omnica promised a golden age, robots that could do any job and leave mankind able to pursue any other interest or goal.”

 

“Wait, so people wouldn’t have to do any work and still be able to live however they wanted?” Bolin laughed. “Okay, now I know the future’s crazy.”

 

“Tell that to New Zealand,” McCree said with a grin. “Nah, the Omnics weren’t a bad idea when you got down to it. Hell, Omnica even built massive, self-producing factories to make Omnics.”

 

“Robots building robots.” Bolin scowled. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”

 

“It was. Omnica had sold itself as a miracle, but over time people started to realize they were lying. Their plans, their projections for success, none of it matched with reality. Even with as many Omnics being produced, they could never make their goals reality. Eventually the corporation shut down, and the omnium factories deactivated.”

 

Bolin nodded. “Okay, yeah, uh-huh, I’m still following.” A pregnant pause, then, “But what caused the crisis?”

 

“No one right knows,” McCree said with a shrug. “One day the omniums just started up again and were pumping out armies to kill all mankind.”

 

Bolin shuddered. “Ugh, that’s just so _creepy_. I mean machines trying to kill people? It’s not like people haven’t tried to kill me before but c’mon, you at least should have a soul when you do it.”

 

“Zenyatta might be able to explain it to you when we see him again,” McCree said with a shrug. “So, what’s with Asami anyway? Sounds like she’s got a stick up her rear about this.”

 

Bolin threw up his hands. “I honestly don’t know. I mean it’s like we said, lately she doesn’t seem to be getting much sleep.”

 

McCree rubbed his chin. “Didn’t she shoot Junkrat a while back?”

 

“You mean that crazy guy with the peg-leg and bombs?” Bolin nodded. “Yeah, what’s that got to do with…Ooooooh, now I get it.”

 

Pharah kept moving, looking up at the rooftops and down the cramped alleys. “She seems strong Bolin, I don’t think she’ll be in trouble from her actions.” Pharah nodded to McCree. “Those will do.”

 

Bolin looked around. “What will?”

 

“Points for overwatch,” McCree said.

 

“Wait, why are we making them points for Overwatch?”

 

Pharah chuckled and shook her head. “We’re not going into that routine. He means we’re looking for positions. This area wasn’t marked as heavily in red as the rest, it’s likely the gangs Vishkar is using will come after this neighborhood next.”

 

Bolin nodded. “Okay, got it. So what do we do tonight then?”

 

“It depends on how they attack us,” Pharah said. “How well can you and your brother improvise?”

 

Bolin grinned. “Oh, we’ve had our moments.”

 

“Heads up,” McCree said, nodding up the street. Looking in the direction, Bolin saw two people in identical outfits walking toward them. They wore white outfits, practically glistening they were so pure, with purple highlights and shoulder markings. One man, one woman, wearing strange headgear around their ears. They were walking out of a small store, the man tapping at a plastic pad as the woman spoke with a placid face to the owner. The old man spoke excitedly, angrily at them. The woman talked down to him, literally and figuratively, Bolin didn’t need a translation. The woman motioned to the shop, specifically the exposed wiring leading out from it and the tilted sign, rusting and barely screwed onto the building. The only thing truly keeping it up was some bailing wire and tape. As Bolin watched, the man slammed his fist into his palm and motioned to the store, holding up four fingers. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and held up a metallic left palm. Motioning with her right hand, a beam of light appeared. Shaping it with her right hand, she created a solid cube of white material in under a second. The old shop owner kept glaring, but stepped back. The woman said a few more words, and he stared down at the ground in shame.

 

“Well, looks like Vishkar’s making a pitch before things go off.” McCree took out a fresh cigar and lit up. “What do you think of the roof of that shop?”

 

Pharah nodded. “It will need too much work, the left and right are better.” Looking around, Pharah saw a guitar hanging in a pawn shop window. It was a worn thing, scratched with frayed strings and splitting on the struts. Grinning as she looked back at the kids playing soccer, she reached into her pocket. “Give me a minute.”

 

As she disappeared into the shop, Bolin saw the two Vishkar employees turn and walk in his direction. McCree grinned, his cigar turning up as they approached. The man finally looked up from his pad and stared at McCree for a second, whispering to his partner as they approached. McCree grinned, watching the two close and making sure to use his left arm to raise the brim of his Stetson. “Well howdy there. Say, the food in that shop any good? I’m in a mood for some find cooking right now.”

 

“I doubt any of the food in this place is fit for human consumption,” the woman said, glaring at McCree. Specifically, his left arm. “I would recommend leaving this neighborhood immediately.”

 

McCree played at looking at his arm in confusion. “What, something wrong? Am I leaking oil again?”

 

The woman sneered at McCree. “Perhaps if you put the effort into acquiring a respectable prosthetic you would not have such problems.”

 

“Yeah, well this one’s seen me through a lot of crazy times.” McCree flexed his fingers. “Guess it’s kinda like this town here. Just because it’s worn doesn’t mean it don’t mean something to the people in it.”

 

“Perhaps, but it’s obvious that this area is a breeding ground for disease and crime,” the man said, still half-ignoring McCree as he tapped on the pad. “We are offering to rectify that.”

 

“Right, like you did in India with that whole city you made.” McCree nodded, blowing a long plume of sickly-sweet smoke in the direction of the two. “Funny though, what I heard your bosses didn’t get very far here before people started having problems with your plans. Kinda funny how the only real competition you had got blown up too.”

 

The woman’s eyes got even narrower, but the man didn’t pay attention. “The fact that their building was destroyed should show how poor a choice they would have been to rebuild this area.”

 

“Yeah, still, what I remember? Back in the US making a neighborhood all nice and cleaned up means the people living in it can’t afford to live in it no more.”

 

The man’s tapping slowed. “Vishkar is prepared to offer these people all the opportunities to remain in this neighborhood.”

 

McCree’s false smile spread across his face. “Right, a company town. Make the people here work for Vishkar, and in exchange they get to live and sleep in the same spot each night. Only problem is, we tried that too. My question is, when do you get to selling off their children and breaking up the families?”

 

“And you?” The man finally looked up from his tablet. “Playing tourist through the favelas, watching their misery before you go back to your comfortable and safe home in America? Your few dollars might provide a temporary respite from a hungry night. We seek to give these people the rest of their lives in peace and security.”

 

“Wait, wait, I saw this one in one of the offices,” Bolin said, wracking his brain. “Those who give up freedom for security don’t deserve either one?”

 

McCree chuckled, tapping his ash off in front of the feet of the two employees. “Ben Franklin, good job Bo. Cage is a cage no matter how much you gild it.”

 

[The bell on the door of the pawn shop rang,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hXtk6BkYGk) and Pharah walked out with the guitar from the window over her chest. Tuning it, she leaned against the wall and started plucking at the strings. “I’ve not had many chances to practice,” she said, turning the keys for a few seconds. “Running around as much as we’ve been lately I haven’t had the time. Still, I think I’ll make do.” Hooking it up to a mini amp, Pharah grinned as she started playing.

 

The kids playing soccer looked over and grinned, smiling and laughing as Pharah started playing the old tune. Shouting and dancing, they swarmed around Pharah as a few of the locals looked out of their windows curiously.

 

“Well, look at that,” McCree said with a grin. “We ain’t even been here a day and we’re already making friends. How long have you folks been trying to win over the favelas again?”

 

“Yes, they can dance and play without shoes upon a filthy street,” the woman said, folding her arms. “Truly you’ve done these people a great service.” Bolin noticed two different reactions from the pair. The man frowned and went back to his pad. The woman looked annoyed, but Bolin quickly changed his mind. She didn’t look annoyed, not with the way her brow was furrowed. “ _No, she actually looks uncomfortable? Maybe she doesn’t like the music?_ ”

 

“Maybe you’re right,” McCree said, tapping off some more ash. “Still, can’t deny that people being happy goes a long way to winning them over to an idea.” He grinned as he let out another puff of smoke. “Unless you’d rather tell them why their entire life’s efforts aren’t worth a lick of spit to a dying man in the desert.”

 

Bolin nodded. “That was good, O’Neill’ll like that one.”

 

The woman shook her head. “We do not have time for this.” Turning away, the two went to a nearby street, where a more imposing man stood guard by a sleek white car.

 

“Well they didn’t seem very friendly,” Bolin said. “Still, weren’t you a little too harsh? I mean they’re the ones sending gangs after people.”

 

“True,” McCree said, turning back to see Tracer, Reinhardt, and Brigitte walking up. “Course, we also know for sure where the gangs will hit tonight.”

 

Reinhardt roared with laughter as he and Brigitte watching the children bounce around to the music. “ _Wunderbar!_ I didn’t know you still played Fareeha.”

 

Pharah smiled as she wrapped up the song. “Guess I’m not as out of practice as I thought.” High-fiving the children, she slung the guitar over her back as the kids kept begging for another song. “We’ve got a location for tonight.”

* * *

The hotel room was full of the sounds of pistols being checked as the sun started to dip into the Western sky. McCree adjusted his holster, practicing drawing as he faced the window while Teal’c helped Korra with her pistol. “Really don’t see why we’re bringing these,” Korra said. “Hello, master of all four elements remember?”

 

“The escalation of force is vital in this situation,” Teal’c said. “We do not wish for our foes to understand the power they face so early.”

 

Korra groaned. “You know I barely qualified to use this right? I mean my bullets on just hit the paper after two weeks of learning how to use this.”

 

Daniel looked up in surprise. “You only had to do two weeks?”

 

Brigitte slid her pistol in a shoulder holster, shaking her head. “I’ll admit, the construction on these old pistols isn’t so bad. Compared to a pulse weapon it’s almost elegantly simple.”

 

“That’ll make great ad copy,” O’Neill said, mockingly waving his hand over his head. “Beretta: Endorsed by Brigitte Lindholm in 2076. Asami, how’d it go with Vishkar?”

 

“They said it would be two weeks before they could even try to talk with us,” Asami said. “They were polite enough, but it was obvious that they didn’t take me seriously. I didn’t want to break out anything related to Future Industries, but it might be the only thing that could get me inside to talk with them.”

 

Before O’Neill could weigh in, someone started knocking on the door. Every hand went to a weapon, except for the three benders who went into their stances. O’Neill moved for the door, hand on his pistol as he checked the peep hole. Shaking his head, he cracked the door enough for Lúcio to enter the room. “What the hell are you doing here? And what the hell are you wearing?”

 

Lúcio grinned, motioning to his metal-plated pants and bright green ice skate-looking boots. “Pretty sweet right? Hey, you guys answered my call right? Doesn’t make sense for me to sit on the sidelines.” As if to emphasize his point, he pulled out what looked like a speaker with a trigger and pistol grip connected by wire to his back. His dreads were wrapped up with several yellow objects on the ends that O’Neill realized were speakers.

 

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “You are only wearing armor on your legs. This is ineffective for combat.”

 

Lúcio waved the comment off. “Psssh, yeah right! I’m so fast they’ll never touch me, watch!” As the teams watched, Lúcio ran and jumped on the walls, laughing as his green skates carried him through the room. “Eh? Pretty sweet right?”

 

“Pretty ridiculous,” Carter said. “If you go into a fight with those things on you’ll be an easy target, every gun out there tonight will go after you.”

 

Lúcio laughed, grinning at Carter. “Man, you guys aren’t any fun you know that? I mean I thought Overwatch were heroes.”

 

O’Neill looked around at the team. “Did I miss that memo about being here for fun?”

 

Lúcio laughed again, sounding a little less sure the second time around. “But you’re Overwatch right?”

 

Daniel thought for a moment. “Why would you think that this would be fun?”

 

Lúcio motioned to Reinhardt and Tracer. “Well I mean you’re Overwatch, you’re heroes!”

 

“Heroes don’t act flippantly, not when they don’t know what they’re dealing with.” Reinhardt’s face suddenly hardened. “Acting without care in battle will lead to death. Yours or your allies, it isn’t worth it.” Reinhardt tapped on his scarred eye. “I know.”

 

Lúcio froze, taken aback by this reaction. Pharah knew what he was thinking. Where was Overwatch? Where were the armored heroes of a decade past who roamed the world righting wrongs and saving people? Wasn’t this the same Reinhardt Wilhelm who saved an entire village from bandits? Wasn’t this the same Tracer who made a name for herself stopping crime across London with a grin and a bomber jacket? Pharah sighed. “We will let you come along Lúcio, but when the fighting begins you need to leave it to us. Do you understand?” Despite Lúcio’s nod, Pharah felt he didn’t at all.

 

The team set through the city as the sun started to set, rolling through the city center straight for the store Pharah and McCree had chosen earlier. The teams quickly set to the rooftops beside the shop, McCree putting a finger to his lips as a small girl looked out her window and gave her a wink. Safely atop the rooftops, they all watched as the City of God slowed for the day. Parents hurried their children inside, groups of friends quickly moving away from the streets as the few lights still working on the streets lit up.

 

Lúcio looked around the streets, waiting for something to happen as his bodyguards scoped out the area. “So, what happens now?”

 

Mako leaned his head back on a rusted billboard. “We wait.”

 

Lúcio looked at the rest of the team around him. McCree had his hat tipped over his eyes, motionless as he lay on the roof. Teal’c knelt at the edge of the roof facing the street, scanning the neighborhood and watching for movement. Tracer twirled her pistol, she’d taken the magazine out and cleared the chamber but still did so away from everyone else. Every few seconds she’d grumble something that sounded like, “Jesse makes this look so bloody easy.”

 

“Uh, so when do we start doing the heroic stuff,” Lúcio asked. “I mean c’mon, we’re gonna take down Vishkar tonight right?”

 

“It is far too soon to assault Vishkar,” Teal’c said, not looking back. “We must first ensure that these people are safe, and can carry out their plans to resist the development of their neighborhoods.”

 

“Would help if the police were actually doing something,” Mako said. “If these gang attacks have been going on for some time, why haven’t the city police done anything to try and crack down? Even if there aren’t enough they can ask for help from other authorities.”

 

Lúcio shrugged. “Just the way it is man, ever since the Omnic Crisis there haven’t been many cops at all. Most places hire their own security.”

 

Mako looked confused. “Their own security? But then who handles arrests or patrolling the streets?”

 

Lúcio looked equally confused. “What, where are you from that there’s enough cops around to patrol an entire city?”

 

Teal’c interrupted the questioning. “They are here. Everyone get ready.” McCree bolted up and drew his revolver as Tracer slammed a magazine home and racked the slide. Mako watched with his eyes barely over the sign as Teal’c lay down with his pistol up at the sky. Checking across the street, he saw the other half of the team holding still behind the edge of their roof as well. Reinhardt had been forced to stay on the street though, between Asami’s call on the stability of the rooftops and lack of good cover for him it was probably safer than keeping him with the rest.

 

Mako looked down the street to see a trio of vehicles slowly floating up to the shop, a group of men laughing and shouting as they swaggered along carrying weapons over their shoulders or nearly scraping the pavement. They rode in the back of what looked like a truck, with two customized cars following closely that looked like they’d had their roofs removed. They wore tight, worn clothes with LED lines running across them, but their weapons looked only a little different from what SG-1 would use. He’d have to ask O’Neill about it later.

 

The men laughed and shouted, pointing at the store and chambering the rounds in their weapons. The truck revved the engine, jumping every few feet.

 

The team’s radios crackled. “ _Bolin, you and Korra get ready to open the streets up under them._ ” Bolin nodded, moving up to the sign and taking a breath. The streets and ground under them were free of any pipes or metal, perfect for a bender on the road. Smiling, Bolin radioed, “All set here O’Neill.”

 

“ _Wait for my call._ ”

 

The gang pointed at the market, several chambering their weapons and egging each other on to start wrecking the store. Mako watched as Lúcio tensed up, waiting for Overwatch to do something. One of the gang members raised their rifle, lining it up with the store’s front door.

 

“ _Now._ ”

 

The ground the gang was standing on opened wide, and screaming the gang fell into a gaping hole that suddenly appeared in the street. The vehicles hovered for a few seconds but couldn’t fight gravity long enough to escape, crashing hard into the hole as well. Shouts and cries came from hole, gunfire ringing out from inside every few seconds. Lúcio looked down on the street and laughed, skating down the side of the building up to the edge of the hole. “Ha! That was awesome, how’d you dig a trap that fast?”

 

“Oh, you know, little nanotech, little elbow grease.” O’Neill winked at Korra and Bolin. “Hey, think you can shoot three of them up here?”

 

Korra nodded, slamming her foot down and sending three of the gang members flying up with a trio of yelps. The men landed hard in a heap on the pavement, and O’Neill smiled down on them. “Well, nice to see you all here with us.” The men tried to raise their weapons, but they were quickly snatched away by Teal’c. “So, you think destroying someone’s store is a good way to intimidate someone?” The men glared at O’Neill, who groaned. “Hey, Lúcio, you want to translate here?” Lúcio quickly did so. One of the gang members shouted back something that didn’t need translation. “Well that’s not very nice. So, we’re gonna take an alternative approach.” Nodding to Reinhardt, O’Neill went back to grinning at the man as Reinhardt pulled out an over-the-top trio of evening dresses.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

“You bastard,” the gang leader shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk. “Now my gang look like a bunch of idiots!”

 

Sanjay Korpal looked over the headline on his tablet that was posted five minutes ago, “Gang ‘Dragged’ From Hole”, then at the gang leader still decked out in his LED-lined outfit in the morning. “To be fair, they didn’t need the help of whoever did this.”

 

The gang leader’s glare got worse, and if anyone could see the two in the room they’d probably be worried for Sanjay’s safety from the massive gang leader. Anyone who knew how such things worked would realize where the real power was. “I want blood.”

 

“You’ll get it,” Sanjay said patiently, closing out the pictures. “The authorities are still convinced this is just an uptick in gang violence in those slums. The rest of your gang will be easily able to destroy that market. Of course, they had better be able to before we decide our investment was a mistake.”

 

The gang leader sneered. “I’ll give you a street full of bodies if that’s what it takes.”

 

“The market burning down would be more than sufficient,” Sanjay said, sending the gang leader a warning glance. “We’ve already warned you about keeping the deaths to a minimum.”

 

The gang leader spat. “Fine, but I want double now that they can actually fight back.”

 

“An appropriate request,” Sanjay said, tapping at his tablet without even looking away. “Once you manage to burn down the market, you will be compensated.” Without even waving the man out, Sanjay went to his tablet and patiently waited until the gang leader finally got the hint and stormed out. Satisfied he was alone, Sanjay tapped on his tablet and called up Satya “Symmetra” Vaswani. “Any luck?”

 

“ _None, you would think finding a man with a cowboy hat in this city would be easier._ ” From the sound of her voice, the long day was starting to get to her. “ _Do you really think they would be that great a concern?_ ”

 

“If they believe they’re helping the favelas by keeping them as they are, they are a grave threat.” Tapping at the image of the three individuals on his pad, Sanjay had already received two hits on the cowboy and the woman. “What’s more, both are associated with Overwatch. Under the Petras Act, we can safely claim their actions are illegal and therefore any association with the resistance in the favelas constitutes illegal action.”

__

There was a short pause. “ _Am I to take that as authorization to solve this problem?_ ”

 

Sanjay nodded. “Ensure that our operations are no longer obstructed.” Hanging up, Sanjay took out a small black smartphone and tapped at it. “Keep them under observation.”

* * *

O’Neill threw a newspaper onto the map-covered table showing Ignacio the headline about last night. “Well, how’s that for a start?”

 

Ignacio’s confusion didn’t need a neon sign to be seen. “Where’d you get a newspaper?”

 

“The important thing is that we showed that gang they aren’t in charge anymore,” McCree said, smiling as he looked over the picture of several gang members being led into a paddy wagon in dresses looking confused. “They’ll come back, but it’ll be a last hurrah. Now that they’ve shown they can’t even handle taking down a market the other gangs they run against will start circling like sharks. It’ll be a power struggle, Vishkar won’t be able to do a thing about it, and you’ll have time to start putting things together to take back your town.”

 

“Aw yeah, that’s what I like to hear,” Lúcio laughed. “So what next, we take the fight to them?”

 

“No, we organize,” Daniel said. “Sir, you and these people here, you’re all local to the favelas right?” Ignacio nodded. “That means that you more than us can speak for the people living here.”

 

Ignacio looked to Lúcio. “Well yes, but I don’t understand.”

 

“The gangs run these neighborhoods, they do it because the people here aren’t listened to. It’s obvious Vishkar has managed to strangle a lot of things in this city, but they haven’t gotten you under their control.” Daniel pointed to the red marks. “These people must hate being under the gangs, otherwise none of you would have made this committee in the first place.”

 

“He’s right,” one of the women shouted. “We shouldn’t just take this anymore, we should be heard!”

 

“How?” Ignacio pointed to the red Xs. “It isn’t just one gang, it’s dozens. Vishkar controls them all, we have no way to fight.”

 

“Not physically,” Daniel said. “What you have is sympathy. Lúcio already told the world what’s happening here, now you have to capitalize on it. I mean do you even have a name?” No one answered. “Can I give you one?”

 

Ignacio threw up his hands. “As long as that’s all you’ve give for now.” Daniel nodded, quickly scribbling down something on the top left of the map. Leaning over, Ignacio nodded. “Cidadãos Juntos Pela Justiça. It sounds nice.”

 

“It’s what you want isn’t it?” Daniel tapped on the map. “Justice for what’s happened, holding Vishkar and the city accountable.” Daniel was speaking with a firm tone, it was obvious to O’Neill that he was in one of his “moods” again. “The people in the favelas are what make this city work, and they outnumber the people living in the city by a wide margin. You can organize them, Ignacio.”

 

Ignacio paused, looking around the room. The other favela leaders nodded, some smiling as they started to give their ascent. Lúcio flashed a grin and said, “I’ve already got plenty of cash saved up my man. You want it, I can start giving you what you need right now.”

 

Ignacio looked back down at the map, running a hand along one particular X. “We’ll need security. And news coverage, lots of news coverage. And all of us, we need new clothes.” Ignacio grinned, small but it still counted. “We can’t take on our city government in our dirty shirts and worn trousers.”

 

The room was suddenly filled with action, the people inside grabbing their phones and calling up their families and friends and telling them what was happening. Moving over, Pharah put a hand on Lúcio’s shoulder. “That was a generous gesture.”

 

“Shoot, least I can do right?” Lúcio smiled at the room scurrying about with action. “Between you guys taking out the gangs and the people fighting the plans, Vishkar’s gonna go down hard.” Lúcio didn’t notice Mako shooting him a look from across the room.

 

As the group of locals started to figure out a plan, Tracer stood outside with Korra grinning. “That was amazing what you did last night Korra, I mean you and Bolin just opened that street like it was the Red Sea!”

 

Korra laughed. “Well, no idea what that is, but it wasn’t so hard really. Just had to make sure there wasn’t any metal under the street and it was a snap.”

 

Tracer thought for a second. “Well I s’pose that makes sense. Still, crazy to think that you can do that with only two people. If all the gangs in this city are that stupid, we should have an easy time of wrapping this lot up.”

 

“They will not be,” Teal’c said calmly, still wearing his crisp white suit. “Only the foolish ones will be the first to fall. Any group of criminals smart enough to avoid such a simple trap will need to prepare for combat to save these people.”

 

Tracer sighed. “I figured you’d say that.” Shrugging, Tracer looked over to the door of the building, listening to the action inside pick up. “Still, maybe we can pull this off.”

 

“Hope so,” Korra said, looking over to where Asami stood staring at the filthy streets before her. “For everyone’s sake.”

* * *

Mako let out a groan as he settled onto his bed, rubbing at his face as Bolin fell face first into his mattress. “I’m glad they’re setting up their own plan, but _man_ my feet are killing me.”

 

“I know,” Bolin said, his voice muffled by his face being buried into the pillow. “I can’t get over how big this city is. I mean it doesn’t nearly feel this bad back home.”

 

“It’s because we know the streets back home,” Mako said, smiling as he forced himself to sit up. “I’m gonna hit the showers, remember we’ve got to be out there in three hours.” Bolin gave a weak thumbs up as Mako threw off his shirt on the way to the bathroom. As he got to the door though, he heard rapping and sighed. Grabbing a towel and throwing it over his shoulders, he checked the peephole and recoiled at the sight of a disheveled Asami with sunken eyes staring back at him. Cracking the door, he edged his head out and quickly realized this wasn’t going to be a pleasant or quick conversation. “Asami, you okay?”

 

Asami shook her head. “No, I’m really not.”

 

“Yeah, we’ve all kinda noticed.” Opening the door, Mako let Asami shuffle in only for her to lean on the nearest empty section of wall. “What’s been bothering you Asami?”

 

Asami looked away, drawing in on herself. “When we first got here, when we went to Oasis Mako. I shot that man, Junkrat.”

 

“And it’s been bothering you.” Mako nodded. “You came to me because of what happened with the Red Lotus?”

 

Asami nodded. “When you were fighting Ming-Hua, when you had to…”

 

Mako nodded. “It didn’t hit me when I did it. I just knew that if I didn’t stop Ming-Hua, she would kill Bolin and I. That Korra would probably die because we couldn’t get out in time to help her.” Mako looked up and straight at Asami. “You did what you did, because you knew if you didn’t that someone you care about would get hurt. It doesn’t make it any more right or wrong, but if you hadn’t done what you did to that lunatic, you and I and Maj. Carter might not be here right now.”

 

Asami nodded, wiping at her eyes a few times. “I just keep thinking about what I did. Like it keeps nagging at me, like I should have been able to do something different.”

 

“Maybe, but then it might have resulted in something worse happening.” Mako clasped Asami’s shoulder. “You are not a bad person for what happened, Asami. If anything you feeling like this is a good sign.”

 

Asami’s confusion filled her face. “What?”

 

“When I was with the Triple Threats, some of the gang would brag about their killing, talk about how many people they’d put in the ground.” It clearly wasn’t comfortable for Mako, talking about that part of his past, but he shook it off for Asami’s sake. “You don’t want to have to take a life Asami, not unless you have no other choice. You don’t kill because you think it’s fun, or because you want to make some kind of mark for yourself. You did it because you wanted to see Korra when the fight was over.”

 

Asami smiled, brushing some stray hair out of her face. “Thanks Mako. I knew you’d be able to help me talk about this.”

 

Mako smiled. “I told Korra that no matter what, I’d be behind you both. I just want you both to be happy.”

 

Bolin’s muffled voice echoed from his bed. “The same for me!”

 

Asami laughed. “Thank you Bolin.” There was another muffled statement, and Asami looked back to Mako. “I just hope I can get some sleep now.”

 

“Maybe you can talk to Dr. MacKenzie?” Mako shrugged as he and Asami went back to the door. “After what he did to help Natsu during the hearing, he can probably help you with this.”

 

Asami nodded. “After this is all over though,” she said, stepping back out the door. “I’m not gonna leave the rest of you here just because I’m having problems.”

 

Mako shook his head. “Only if you’re still level,” he said. “You know that no one wants you here if you’re having trouble just staying awake.”

 

Asami nodded. “Guess I just need to talk to Korra about it then.”

 

Mako nodded. “Remember Asami, Korra loves you. No matter what you think, she’ll always be there for you.” Asami smiled, and gave Mako a quick hug before going back down the hall. Smiling, Mako made sure his shower was fast. It was going to be another late night.

* * *

The gang was out in larger numbers this time, and Korra shook her head. “There’s too many, and they have Omnics with them too. Even if we managed to open a wide enough hole without damaging the ground under it the robots would be able to just climb up.”

 

Carter shook her head. “Doesn’t even matter then. They’re carrying ropes this time.”

 

The teams were holed in the alleys farther down the street, there was not good cover and the rooftops were too thing to support any of them so far from the shop. Bolin and Korra had made sure to create good cover for everyone, five-inch thick concrete barriers hidden by trash and garbage cans. Lúcio, once again, had decided to join them in his skates and speaker hair accessories.

 

“Okay, wait for them to get to the purple apartment block,” O’Neill radioed. “Korra, Bolin, wall’em in and we’ll take it from there.”

 

Korra and Bolin waited, watching as the gang passed by. More stupid LED-lined clothes, more guns, and three robots in the mix. The gang moved a little faster than the night before, clipped conversation between them a marked difference from their loud boasting the night before. There was only one truck this time, a man with a markedly more complex and detailed outfit riding atop it with a far more advanced looking weapon.

 

“Standby,” O’Neill whispered into his radio. “Hit’em to the rear, sides, then at the front.” Everyone tensed, watching as the gang moved closer to last night’s ambush. “Now.”

 

Four walls shot up in rapid succession, but as the team started to move they saw a hole burst out of the rear wall. Two more appeared, the teams realizing that the robots were breaking through the walls. Then the truck reversed and broke down the rest of the wall. O’Neill swore. “Open fire!”

 

Gunfire raked the favela street, the teams ducking for cover as the gang fired wildly. Lúcio laughed, and before anyone could stop him skated out into the street with his speaker up. As the gang swarmed out of the enclosure Lúcio fired and sent a blast of sound at the gang. Several of the gang clutched at their ears, but Lúcio’s smile vanished when he saw them get cut down by fire from the teams. Before he could process what happened he was jerked back into an alley and saw Brigitte’s face glaring down at him. “What are you, crazy!”

 

Lúcio shook his head. “I thought we were trying to stop them, they just got shot!”

 

“You have bodyguards who have guns, what do you think they’d do if you were shot at?” As Lúcio was pushed farther back into the alley, Brigitte leaned around the corner and fired back. The gang had started to figure out where the fire was coming from, and the return fire went from wild and panicked to focused and dangerously close. “O’Neill, we need a new plan!”

 

“Working on it!” O’Neill saw the Omnics in the gang punching more holes into the walls, opening firing ports for the gang members who were smarter than the rest. “Mako, get some lightning in there!”

 

Mako wound up and sent the lightning through the holes, striking an Omnic gang member straight up their arm. The Omnic let out a scream for a second, but seized up and shuddered before falling into a heap of metal. The gunfire from the gang faltered, trying to figure out what kind of weapon the team was using to fire an electrical arc at such a distance. The truck wasn’t hit though, and swung around to show the gang leader turning his weapon down the street. O’Neill called out, “Everyone down!”

 

The weapon raked the street, but from her position Carter saw that it didn’t eject any shell casings or have any noticeable recoil. Of course, using a weapon that advanced was one thing. Being able to actually aim firing from the hip was another. “Korra, Bolin, make a series of walls in the street.” Korra and Bolin did so, and suddenly the street was filled with small walls to bound between. “Sir, cover me!”

 

“You heard Carter,” O’Neill barked and he leaned out from behind a wall and started firing on the gang leader. “Keep’em distracted!”

 

The teams leaned out and unleashed hell on the gang leader, forcing him back behind cover as the gang was kept contained to the box in the street. Carter bounded between positions, rising up to pop off a few shots before sprinting as she was covered by the rest of the team. Repeat three times until she was twenty yards away from the closest gang member. “Bolin, Korra, make the ground uneven underneath them.” The two quickly did so, the fire trailing off as the gang members screamed and tried to keep their place on the shifting ground. “Lúcio, tell them if they don’t surrender we’ll keep firing!”

 

Lúcio pulled himself out of the alley, and called out, “Yo, you guys gotta surrender now man! I’ve got Overwatch here with me, and we’re not stopping until you surrender!”

 

O’Neill saw the gang look at each other uncomfortably. “Keep pressing’em kid, let’em know that they’re not gonna win.”

 

“Ya’ll saw what kind of weapons we got,” Lúcio shouted, pointing to the street and disabled Omnic. “You know that we’ve got one up on you. People already saw what happened last time, surrender and this time we’ll let you get arrested without the dresses.”

 

The gang members looked at each other, contemplating the idea before the gang leader stood atop the truck again with his weapon pointed down the street. “Bastard, I’ll-” Carter’s shot went straight through his forehead, blood spraying out behind him with brain landing across the bed of the truck.

 

Lúcio started shouting a little more frantically. “Guys, c’mon, if you don’t surrender they’re gonna make you surrender!”

 

Several gang members threw their weapons down then and there, unwilling to face any further wrath. The rest backed into the box, staring at Overwatch and their fallen leader. “Tell’em it’s Overwatch out here, that they can surrender or wind up losing the fistfight and _then_ being arrested.”

 

“No way that’s Overwatch,” one of the gang members shouted after Lúcio translated. “Overwatch has stupid costumes and uses hammers and crap!”

 

“This isn’t the Overwatch you might remember,” Daniel shouted, jumping into the conversation. “We’re still devoted to helping people but we aren’t going to act without realizing that there are consequences. Please thrown down your weapons, we’ll make sure you get a fair arrest if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

The gang was breaking, they were looking around for answers but no one was there to give it to them. “Tell’em if they want to surrender, they need to come out with their hands over their heads and with their weapons left behind.” Lúcio translated, and slowly in ones and twos the gang drifted to the street with Carter keeping her weapon on the ones slower to get the message.

 

O’Neill nodded. “Tracer, go and find Ignacio?” Tracer grinned and suddenly blinked forty yards up the street. “Korra, Bolin, once we’ve got these guys processed we’re gonna set the street back to normal.”

 

Daniel walked over as Pharah and Reinhardt kept their weapons on the gang. “Getting more ideas Jack?”

 

“A few,” O’Neill said, looking over to Mercy as she rushed over to treat the wounded with Brigitte behind her. “A fair few.”

* * *

“Overwatch and Favelas Stand Against Gangs,” Brigitte said, smiling as she looked over the picture on the front of the news post. The main image was of Reinhardt speaking with Ignacio as Pharah and Brigitte led several gang members away with their hands tied. Favela residents were out in force, cheering and clapping atop the truck the gang leader had been riding as Lúcio pumped up the crowd. “Last night, one of the most dangerous gangs in Rio was defeated when local residents, with the assistance of the newly reactivated Overwatch, achieved a victory over the Luzes do Inferno.” Brigitte laughed over breakfast, the table laden with food for Brigitte and Reinhardt and everyone else holding their plates in their laps. “You look good old man.”

 

Carter picked up from there. “Local authorities claim that while the gang being disabled and dismantled is a positive, overall the situation in the favelas remains the same.” She nodded, sipping some orange juice. “They’re right, we need to speed up organizing the people in the favelas before the city starts bringing down the hammer on them.”

 

“Already on it,” O’Neill said, covering his pancakes with butter and syrup. “We get Ignacio and his people, they take on Vishkar, Overwatch looks like a helpful bunch of do-gooders and not property destroying vigilantes.”

 

Daniel nodded. “Rather CIA of you Jack.”

 

“Hey, it works it works.” Taking a large bite out of his pancakes, he saw that Asami still looked exhausted, but at least she’d managed to leave some of her bags back in her bed. “Asami, I want you to go back to Vishkar today, tell them we want to talk about their plans for the favelas. After what happened last night, they’ll want to reevaluate their plans before sending in any more gangs.”

 

Asami nodded. “I think Asami Sato, CEO should pay them a visit then.” O’Neill gave the plan a thumbs up as he scarfed down another helping of syrup with some pancake added in. “Anyone got an apple?”

 

Lúcio tossed one over, smiling as he leaned back in his chair. “I gotta admit, I didn’t expect what happened last night. Never been in a gunfight before.”

 

Teal’c pushed his empty bowl of cereal back. “That much is obvious.”

 

Lúcio turned sheepish. “Hey, it’s not like I make a point of getting into fights whenever I want.”

 

Daniel looked up. “Wait, you said you stopped Vishkar from moving any farther into the favelas already. How’d you manage that?”

 

Lúcio shrugged. “I just blasted them with my speakers and hit their work crews where I found them. After that I started DJ’ing and touring, Vishkar hadn’t moved since I’d left.”

 

“Yet they began moving again now,” Teal’c observed. “So soon after our actions in Oasis.”

 

Mercy looked up. “You think these events are connected?”

 

“I’d believe it,” McCree said as he leaned back in his chair. “Managed to grab a hold of that gang leader’s weapon. It was a pulse rifle, US Army model.” The members of Overwatch froze, staring at McCree with worry.

 

Bolin looked around and made sure no one else was going to speak before raising his hand. “Uh, what’s the big deal about that?”

 

“Pulse rifle ain’t your typical weapon kid,” McCree said calmly. “You notice how most of the weapons you’ve seen fire bullets?” Bolin nodded. “Well ain’t you ever noticed that Doc and Tracer ain’t gotta worry about reloading?”

 

Carter nodded. “I noticed that too, but Winston promised us full details on those weapons soon. You’re more worried about the fact that he had a weapon like that at all.”

 

“Darn right,” McCree said, his expression growing more serious. “US Army doesn’t want to let tech like that just get anywhere. How’d a small-fish gang leader get his hands on it? Vishkar’s powerful, but not that powerful.”

 

The table shared an uncomfortable look. Asami rose and moved for the elevators. “I’ll call Vishkar to see if they’re ready to talk.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

 

It hadn’t taken long for Vishkar to finally break according to Asami. Grabbing Ignacio and explaining the situation, Korra now found herself waiting at the edge of an alley outside the Vishkar offices with Tracer. Asami was inside, with O’Neill, Daniel, and Ignacio. Lúcio had insisted he be there as well, stating that since he was footing most of the money for the favelas to stand he had a right to be at the table.

 

“Wonder how it’s going,” Korra said, sparing a look up at the gleaming white spire above her head. “Is Vishkar usually known for being the bad guys?

 

“Nah, this is a new one on me.” Tracer leaned against the side of the alley with her eyes shut, jacket slung over her shoulder in the heat. “Their work in India was a masterpiece, millions of people in new homes and jobs to give them actual gainful employment in their new city.”

 

“Millions?” Korra shuddered. “There’s maybe five million people in the entire Republic.”

 

“Give it a few years then,” Tracer said with a laugh. “You’re on the verge of an agricultural revolution from what Winston said. A little more food, you’ll have nearly five _billion_ in your dimension.”

 

Korra let out a breath. “Guess we’d better get started on trying to figure out where to put them all.”

 

“Well maybe you can get some Vishkar’s tech,” Tracer said, looking up at the building in the downtown. “Certainly doesn’t look like something you’d find anywhere else.”

 

“I just can’t believe that they went right ahead and ignored all those people,” Korra said. “I mean they could just act like they didn’t matter?”

 

Tracer shrugged. “It’s why we’re back isn’t it? Help people, be heroes, I guess we’re just not the heroes Lúcio imagined, are we?”

 

“Not from what I can see,” Korra said as the city passed them by. “You think we can pull this off though?”

 

“We have to try right?” Tracer gave a shrug as she popped open a bottle of water. “He did ask us to help.”

 

“It’s gonna take time though,” Tracer said, scanning the street as the cars floated by and crowd ebbed and flowed. “I know Ignacio’s people have an ear to the favela but they’re only so many and…they…” Korra’s thoughts derailed as she saw something she’d never seen before. It wasn’t so unusual to see a couple walking down the street, holding hands and even rubbing noses. What caught Korra off guard was that the apparent female half of the couple was metal-plated with bright electronic eyes. “Hey, is that normal?”

 

Tracer followed Korra’s expression and gave another shrug. “Eh, it’s starting to crop up more and more. A few cases of Omnics and humans, happens from time to time.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Korra said. “How can a person and a machine be in love?”

 

“Dunno,” Tracer said with an impish grin. “How can two women be in love?” Korra froze at that, and just slumped against the building for a second. Thoughts of Parker came flooding into her mind, but Tracer could read her easily. “You ain’t like that big lug Korra, you didn’t know. He knows, and he’s got to learn for himself that you and Asami ain’t no sin.”

 

“Right, got it,” Korra muttered, trying to shake herself out of her thoughts. She was supposed to be on guard, not nearly falling into the same way Parker would think-

 

“Oi, what’re you trying!”

 

Dang it.

 

Turning, Korra saw that Tracer was struggling against a trio of men who looked like they weren’t from Rio. They spoke in a language Korra didn’t understand, but from the way they held themselves they’d been busy having fun all day. One of them turned to Korra as his friends surrounded Tracer. He said something that Korra didn’t need translated, judging from the look in his eye.

 

The blast of air sent the man flying into the building next to Vishkar’s headquarters. His two partners looked back at his unconscious body, then back at the glaring woman storming up to them. “I have had to restrain myself a lot lately. My girlfriend is going through an issue she won’t talk to me about. Now I have to worry about acting like a person who is a _very_ big jerk.” Cracking her knuckles, Korra grinned at the two. “You’re about to help me work out those issues.”

 

The two men started to back away from Tracer and Korra, staring at Korra trying to figure out what just happened to their buddy. Korra’s target tried to pull himself up, groaning and cursing as he tried to figure out what happened. Staggering to his feet, his artificial courage urged him to take a swing at Korra, who quickly bent his arm around to his back and forced him to the ground. Korra grinned, keeping the man pinned with one hand while motioning with the other for his buddies to come at her.

 

Tracer laughed, said something in the same language, then kicked one of them hard in the crotch hard enough that the target lay curled up on the ground mewling. The third one left standing started to run, but in his inebriated state only managed to stumble ten feet in the opposite direction before tripping over the edge of a dumpster and falling in a heap.

 

“Bloody wankers,” Tracer said, dusting her hands off. “I swear, put a few drinks in a man and he thinks he can do whatever he wants.”

 

Korra glared down at the three men. “Wait, this happens a lot here?”

 

Tracer looked over at Korra in surprise. “Oi, where’d you say you grew up again?”

  
Korra shrugged. “Well I spent most of my life in a compound locked away from the world. But even when I was out on my own I never saw any guys doing things like that.”

 

Tracer shook her head. “Must’ve been lucky or blind then.”

 

Korra looked on as the three staggered to their feet and stumbled away from the two women. “ _Guess I’m just starting to see._ ”

 

Tracer looked to the Vishkar HQ. “Get ready, they’re coming out.”

 

Korra didn’t like the looks on everyone’s faces as they left the Vishkar building. Lúcio was the only one who had a smile on his face, bounding down the stairs and giving high-fives to anyone who recognized him. He was too wrapped up to notice everyone else glaring at him.

 

Korra and Tracer hurried from the alley and across the street to meet the group as Lúcio’s people drove up in the white vans. “Hey, babe, what happened?”

 

“It got ugly,” Asami grumbled, glaring at Lúcio as he waved goodbye to his fans. Some of them turned to the Vishkar building and started making some gestures that clearly didn’t need anyone explaining them to Korra. “C’mon, let’s get back to the hotel.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, O’Neill and Ignacio had pulled Lúcio into another room as the rest of the team filtered back together. Carter looked up from a laptop she and Brigitte were looking at and stood up. “Hey, Daniel, how’d it go?”

 

Daniel sighed and fell onto the nearest bed. “Well Jack led off with asking about an order of beef curry.”

 

Carter’s face fell. “Oh boy.”

 

“Actually after that Jack played pretty nice all things considered,” Daniel said, rubbing at his eyes. “The problem was Lúcio.”

 

Everyone looked over from what they were doing as Carter asked, “What do you mean, I thought he wanted to help the situations.”

 

“Yeah, well apparently working with Vishkar is out of the question,” Daniel groaned, putting a hand over his eyes. “I expected something insulting from Jack, but every time Asami or Ignacio were getting somewhere Lúcio jumps in with an insult or comment that sets us back to square one. Even Ignacio looked angry, and he’s getting money from Lúcio to set up a movement in the City of God.”

 

Mako leaned on the doorframe, waiting until the door down the hall opened and Lúcio stormed out with a wide grin. “Y’all just gotta understand, we’ve got to fight Vishkar.”

 

“Enough Lúcio!” Ignacio stuck his head out the door, a vein nearly ripping out of his forehead. “Just leave, just leave and let us actually figure out a plan!” The door slammed, but Lúcio waved his hand and started moving for the elevator. He kept making noises that sounded like a beat, but not a beat that Mako had ever heard before. Walking to the elevators, Lúcio kept making the beat without noticing Mako.

 

“What’s your problem?”

 

Lúcio turned in surprise, but kept smiling. “Hey, Mako right? Listen-”

 

“We all came here to help out the favelas,” Mako said, getting very close to to Lúcio. “Overwatch is supposed to help people, not make a problem worse.”

 

Lúcio looked like he’d been slapped. “Hey, I didn’t-”

 

“O’Neill can be a jerk, but he knows enough that when things get serious he shuts up. Asami runs a multi-million yuan company, so she knows how to deal with suits that have agendas. Ignacio? He’s actually out here for the favelas.” Mako pointed at Lúcio’s chest and glared. “Every time you’ve opened your mouth, it’s about fighting Vishkar first and helping the favelas second.”

 

Lúcio backed up, smile faltering as Mako advanced. “Well we can’t fight for the favelas unless we fight Vishkar right?”

 

“And you’ve second-guessed us every step of the way or made a big show out of your being here.” Mako forced Lúcio into a wall and kept glaring. “Why was Ignacio surprised that you were here?”

 

Lúcio sighed and turned his head to the floor. “I was touring when I heard that Vishkar was moving on the favelas. I cut it short and came back, I knew they’d be making life hell for the people here.”

 

“That’s not all of it,” Mako said. “If it were just that you wouldn’t have sabotaged the negotiations like you apparently did. Ignacio seems like he’s willing to talk, but you just want to start fights and…get revenge.” Mako gave Lúcio a little space. “What’d they do?”

 

Lúcio finally lost his smile. “My dad, he used to work for a Vishkar affiliate. Developed a sonic system that Vishkar said it would use to make life better in their developments. They stole the idea from him, had it patented and owned before he could even call for a lawyer.”

 

“So that’s it,” Mako said, folding his arms and glaring at Lúcio. “The whole thing was just an excuse to bring us down here to get revenge.”

 

“It wasn’t!” Lúcio glared right back at Mako with his fists balled. “The favelas are my home, and Vishkar’s trying to force the people to become slaves.”

 

“Then fight them the right way,” Mako shot back. “Just antagonizing Vishkar makes _you_ the bad guy in their eyes.” Lúcio opened his mouth to argue, but Mako cut him off. “You could have negotiated with Vishkar, made a deal with them to preserve the favelas and keep the people in them safe. Instead all you wanted was to get revenge, and we don’t know what Vishkar will do next in retaliation.” Lúcio’s expression turned to realization, and as the elevator arrived Mako went back to the rooms. “If you want to help your old home, you need to realize that there’s more to it than punching a problem away.” Mako didn’t wait to see Lúcio board the elevator as he turned from the elevator alcove and went for the rooms.

 

Carter looked up when Mako walked back in. “Hey, what happened?”

 

“Turns out Lúcio didn’t give us the whole picture,” Mako said, shutting the door rather hard as he walked inside. “He’s trying to protect the favelas, but he’s also got a personal grudge against Vishkar. Safe to say we wouldn’t have rushed over to help if he’d told us that part.”

 

Pharah nodded. “If he’d told us that, we would’ve asked him to try negotiation first, if we had come at all our primary focus would have been talking to Vishkar from the start. Still, we’re here now, and with Ignacio organizing this new group we have to stay and attempt to help.”

 

“We still need to be ready for any gangs in the next few nights,” Mako said. “Bolin and I saw it with the triads, just because you one of them it doesn’t mean the others won’t make a play for the territory. Or in this case, Vishkar’s money.”

 

Brigitte groaned. “Ugh, more late nights? Can we at least start sleeping in shifts while we’re out?”

 

“Probably for the best,” Carter said. “We don’t start catching up on sleep we’re gonna make a mistake out there.”

 

“Probably for the best to get some now then,” Daniel said, yawning as he stretched out on the bed. “Teal’c, you wanna wake me up in about an hour?”

 

Teal’c looked down on Daniel. “Do I appear as a timekeeping device to your eyes?”

 

Daniel groaned. “Fair enough Teal’c, fair enough.”

 

As Lúcio hurried out of the lobby, Symmetra boarded the elevator and rode to the floor she saw him board on. “Presence is in the Grand,” she radioed. “Will commence operation later tonight.”

* * *

O’Neill looked down on the street as the sun dipped below the horizon from the highest building they could find in the favela. “Is it just me or are the streets a little more crowded?”

 

“I just want to know what you’re thinking,” Mercy said, Asami and Brigitte adjusting her stabilizers on her suit. “No one will actually believe this is what’s really happening.”

 

O’Neill shrugged. “You’d be surprised what people are willing to believe when things are rough. Now how long can you stay airborne with this thing working?”

 

“Long enough to land,” Mercy said, looking nervously down at the favela. “No one will believe this O’Neill, Vishkar will make sure of it.”

 

“Ye of little faith,” O’Neill said playfully. “Ever heard about the Angels of the Mons?”

 

“A legend,” Reinhardt laughed. “A British story to raise morale during the Second World War.”

 

“And people associate such sightings with good omens and God’s favor.” Daniel nodded. “Jack, this might actually be one of your better ideas.” Jack looked insulted, but said nothing as the sun kept sinking.

 

Pharah came over the radio. “ _Team two in position, waiting for arrival of White Dove._ ”

 

O’Neill nodded, turning to Mercy. “Okay, time to show’em what you’ve got.” Mercy shuddered, stepping up to the lip of the building in the dying sunlight. O’Neill patted her on the back and grinned. “Remember, think serene, be like Teal’c.” Mercy looked at O’Neill in confusion. “Oh, one more thing,” he said, reaching behind her and pulling her hair loose. “Never heard of an angel with a ponytail. Okay, shake it out and let fly.”

 

Mercy took a breath, spread her arms and motioned for the stabilizers to activate. Stepping up to the edge of the roof, she half-shut her eyes like the statues she’d seen in churches around the world and stepped off.

 

It was something about the Crisis Suit, being able to float on air thanks to Winston’s work on the stabilizers. Suddenly she felt a breeze crossing on front of her, and looking down while keeping her expression she saw Korra forcing air across her flight path. “ _Of course,_ ” she thought. “ _Have to give the angel perfect hair for the flight down._ ”

 

She descended slowly, trying her best to see below onto the streets. The locals were shifting through the streets, but no one was bothering to look up-

 

O’Neill radioed, “ _Your cue Bolin._ ”

 

A group of people suddenly looked up, and like wildfire everyone on the streets was staring up at Mercy as she floated down. Keeping her face as serene as possible, she focused on her pose and her destination. Fifty yards down Pharah, Tracer, and Korra waited on another rooftop. Korra kept bending air her way, keeping Mercy’s hair waving as she approached. “ _There’s no possible way this will work_ ,” she thought. “ _Someone will have to realize this is a play, that this is all fake and we’ll be found out. Why does O’Neill want to do this?_ ”

 

Mercy floated down gently to the rooftop, landing hidden behind a rusted billboard and disappearing from view. Korra and Pharah rushed to her side, shutting down the stabilizers and hiding her from sight. “Great job Angela,” Pharah said, smiling as she covered Angela in a small blanket. “It was perfect, you looked like a real angel up there.” Mercy tried not to blush as Tracer grinned at her.

 

“ _Good job gang,_ ” O’Neill radioed. “ _Mako, how’s it looking street-side?_ ”

 

“ _Everyone’s talking down here,_ ” Mako said. “ _I can’t understand them but they’re all holding up their phones and I’m pretty sure they’re asking each other what they saw._ ”

 

A pause. “ _Holding up their phones?_ ”

 

Mercy looked up at Pharah and Tracer. “When did camera phones start becoming common?”

 

Pharah’s face fell. “O’Neill, all cell phones have cameras on them, and everyone now has a cell phone.”

 

Another pause. “ _Okay, adding on to the plan. Reinhardt, go find us someone on the verge of OD’ing. Doc, bring your staff._ ”

 

Mercy shook her head. “He wants me to manufacture a miracle?”

 

Korra shrugged. “I think by your standards, I make them happen all the time.”

* * *

Symmetra waited, checking the time after triple-checking the turret positions. Every one was perfectly placed, matched with the most likely positions. Timed to go off from the door to the windows, cutting them off from retreat. Failing that, she had ensured that additional turrets were placed inside the stairwell and there was an explosive planted in the elevator shaft rigged to detonate on her signal. Sanjay had made it clear: There were to be no more interruptions.

 

The elevators whined. Symmetra quickly moved for cover, slipping inside a janitor’s closet that she’d already organized with the time she had before the return of the Overwatch vigilantes. The majority of the floor was taken up by couples or young friends on vacation, and Symmetra knew the hall would be empty. Watching from the cracked door, she saw the elevator pause and open to reveal a group of people exit and speaking excitedly with each other. “-Just left him there, like he would realize what happened and somehow not take any more drugs!”

 

An older man, an American, answered the blonde German woman. “Look, he needed the save and we gave it to him. Plus, everyone’ll be talking about it tomorrow.”

 

A twig of a woman chuckled nervously. “Uh, yeah, about that, we told you that everyone has a cell phone. Look at this.” She held out her phone to the man, who looked at the device in confusion. “This was uploaded earlier when we started all this.”

 

The man’s jaw dropped as the elevator doors closed as the group moved for their rooms. “ _That many_ people are commenting on this? And what the hell is that thumbs up for?”

 

“It shows how many people like it,” an Arabic woman said. “C’mon, we need to get ready for-”

 

A massive black man stopped her. “Something is wrong.” Slowly moving from the group to the door, he knelt down to the door handle and stared at it. “This has been tampered with.”

 

Symmetra nearly gasped. “ _How can he tell? My work is flawless, there is no possible means he has to see my efforts. How does he know if it was tampered with?_ ”

 

The older American walked over as the second elevator opened and more people came out. “Hey, what’s going on?” The blonde American woman speaking was quickly shushed.

 

“This door was forced open,” the black man said, Symmetra noticing an odd gold brand on his forehead. “There is an odd residue in the door O’Neill, and I would predict that the mechanism no longer functions properly.” Proving his point, the man opened the door without using his keycard.

 

The entire group drew firearms. “Okay, Teal’c take point. Everyone else, stick by the elevators and keep your eyes open as we search the joint.”

 

Symmetra sighed. “ _I can at least eliminate the individuals by the elevators, vacate the premises during the chaos. Ugly, but it should solve the problem._ ” Pulling out the detonator, she started to press down-

 

“Everyone get away from the elevators!”

 

Symmetra froze, watching as the twig of a woman started shoving everyone away as another elevator came up. “There’s bombs on them, we need to start looking for whoever’s trying to kill us!”

 

O’Neill shook his head. “How do you _know_ that-”

 

The twig shouted back, “Your record to Alaris was several billion miles right? That’s what you said happened in your report.”

 

O’Neill blinked and raised his pistol. “Spread out and keep your eyes open.”

 

“ _How did she know?_ ” Symmetra dropped the detonator as the teams spread through the floor. “ _How did she know there were bombs on the brakes? Do they have some kind of device that can detect the explosives?_ ”

 

The foe moved quietly through the floor of the hotel, scanning the empty halls and checking doors as quietly as possible. O’Neill motioned for the team to take each door, as he approached the janitor’s closet. Symmetra tensed, raising her projector and waiting for the perfect moment.

 

The man saw Symmetra, but as she fired her stream he ducked low and did something that threw her off. He tackled her.

 

The simple sensation sent a wave of discomfort through Symmetra, and she froze as the man ripped her photon projector from her hands. She pushed out with her left arm, but he wrapped it between his legs and fell back out of the closet as more rushed over. Symmetra tried to stay focused over the noise, pulling her arm away from O’Neill only to be grabbed by the Arabic woman and slammed against a wall, her right arm twisted behind her back. “Start talking, who are you!”

 

Symmetra struggled, trying to  use her left hand to press against the wall to little avail. “Let go, you’re hurting me!”

 

“Fair’s fair,” O’Neill said, rubbing his thighs. “She’s no gang member, she’s gotta be Vishkar. Okay, why’d you rig the elevators to blow?”

 

Symmetra kept struggling, ignoring the noise of even more people getting of the elevators now. Including the cowboy. “I did no such thing, there are no bombs on the brakes-”

 

“I never said the brakes, just the elevator.” O’Neill looked back. “Hey, we got one here.”

 

The cowboy grinned, his little friend “Bo” tagging along behind him. “Well, look’e here. We got ourselves a visitor from Vishkar.”

 

“Bo” walked over and got far too close to Symmetra’s face for her liking. “Hey, yeah, isn’t she the one we saw at the shop?”

 

“Good point Bo,” McCree said, “Bo” looking to a trio of new faces and shrugging. Symmetra turned away, and tried to focus on the patterns on the wall. Unfortunately, the wallpaper was poorly done and there was a seam showing right next to her eyes. “ _Of course, because no one in this city can do any decent work._ ”

 

“We need to get outta here,” O’Neill said. “If Vishkar’s planting bombs in hotels then they’re getting desperate. Teal’c, check the stairs and give us a clear path.” O’Neill looked at Symmetra for a second. “Any chance we can disable the arm?”

 

Symmetra’s eyes went wide in terror, but her panic was interrupted by a female voice from the closet. “Hey, O’Neill, I think you dropped something. Here, let me get it-”

 

“Korra no!”

 

The blast shook the floor of the hotel, followed seconds later by the shuddering of the building as all four elevators crashed into the basement. No one said anything for a few seconds.

 

Symmetra started being shoved to the stairwell as O’Neill said, “This is why you always bring your buildings up to code.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

 

Ignacio ran into the hangar, Lúcio’s people quickly shutting the doors behind him. “What’s happened, I heard about the bombing and the police won’t say anything.”

 

“Well Vishkar decided that we’re the problem,” Mako said, motioning for Ignacio to follow him. “They sent an agent of theirs to try and kill us. The hotel was,” He spared a look at a thoroughly embarrassed Korra. “The hotel was wrecked.”

 

Ignacio groaned. “Did anyone die?”

 

“Miraculously no,” Mako said, leading Ignacio to the Orca. “We even got lucky, we captured the Vishkar agent.”

 

The team was circled around the Orca, O’Neill staring up at it as Reinihardt stood in the doorway glaring inside. Grinning, he turned to Ignacio and waved. “Hey, glad you could make it.”

 

Ignacio froze as the white prosthetic arm waved at him. “Uh…”

 

O’Neill looked playfully up at the limb. "Don't worry, she’s totally armless.” Daniel facepalmed behind O’Neill.

 

“She’s a Vishkar employee, that much is certain,” Pharah said, quickly jumping in. “We saw her when we made our way through the city the day before our first fight with the gang. We don’t have a name, but she’s…Well she’s dressed rather oddly.”

 

Ignacio blinked. “Oddly?” Pharah held up a photo of their prisoner. She wore metal stiletto heels, stockings that stretched up to her thighs and a blue/gold dress that left her legs open for viewing. “You said this was a Vishkar agent.” Pharah nodded. “She looks like a dancer.”

 

McCree laughed and shouted to O’Neill, “Pay up!”

 

 “Anyway,” O’Neill said. “She’s up in the ship, and seeing as she tried to kill us we don’t exactly want her running back to Vishkar.”

 

Ignacio nodded. “So are we calling the police?”

 

“Nope.” O’Neill tossed the arm over his shoulder, the crash prompting an angry curse in a language Ignacio didn’t understand from inside the Orca. “Can’t risk Vishkar springing her and using her somewhere else. Seeing as Overwatch technically ain’t legal, we’re gonna keep her here a while and see what’s going on.”

 

“She won’t talk though,” Pharah said. “Even after removing her arm she’s defiant.”

 

O’Neill thought for a minute. “I’m gonna talk to her about ice fishing.”

 

Daniel jumped up, surprising Overwatch and MV-3. “Jack, no, she doesn’t deserve that.”

 

“We have to try something Daniel,” O’Neill said, putting on an air of necessity. “We have no other choice.”

 

“Yes, but she didn’t kill anyone,” Daniel said. “We can’t treat her like that, we’re not the bad guys.”

 

McCree shook his head. “Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?”

 

“Just trust me,” O’Neill said. “If this doesn’t work, Bolin, start thinking about your favorite noodle places and get ready to talk about them.”

 

Bolin shook his head. “Can someone please tell me what’s happening?”

 

“O’Neill is attempting a possibly risky strategy, but one which may provide answers in this situation.” Teal’c didn’t open his eyes as he sat on the floor. “He will attempt to aggravate the agent into submission.”

 

Lúcio laughed. “Aggravate? Please, we should just start making her tell us what Vishkar’s planning.”

 

“How about what you’re planning?” Mako glared at Lúcio, suddenly drawing everyone’s attention. “Does Ignacio actually know?”

 

“Know?” Ignacio turned to Lúcio. “Know what?”

 

Lúcio tried to laugh off the stares. “Hey, c’mon now, I thought we were focused on this girl in the Orca-”

 

“What’s he talking about Lúcio,” Ignacio said, the man towering over the DJ as he stormed over. “What don’t I know?”

 

Lúcio looked to his people, but they were too busy looking out into the city to turn back and get involved. “H-Hey, what about O’Neill huh? Dude was making beef curry jokes during the negotiations.”

 

“And that was the only joke he made,” Daniel said forcefully. “Jack can be an ass but he knows when to stop. Is Mako saying you sabotaged the negotiations?”

 

Asami came in from another direction. “You were awfully insistent that Vishkar ‘fess up’ for what they’ve done. Is it the favelas, or is there something else going on?”

 

Lúcio held up his hands, his smile faltering as the glares starting to pick up. “Jeez, whose side are you all on?”

 

“The people in the favelas,” Asami half-growled, half-shouted. “If there’s something you’re not telling us we’ll be more than happy to cut you out.”

 

Lúcio froze, staring at the faces surrounding him now and glaring him into submission. Shuddering, he gave up. “I…Vishkar…Vishkar stole my dad’s work!”

 

It took a few moments before Pharah spoke first. “Glad to see you finally admitted it.”

 

Ignacio blinked. “Admitted…You knew about this?”

 

“We’ve known since the negotiations yesterday,” Pharah said, still glaring at Lúcio. “Mako cornered him and made him talk. It’s just about time he admitted it.”

 

Ignacio glared at Lúcio like a hurt father. “You…You just came back for revenge.”

 

Lúcio quickly waved the accusation away as fast as possible. “No, you know I want to help everyone here-”

 

“You said you want to make Vishkar pay for what they’ve done, did I hear that wrong?”

 

Lúcio pointed at Mako accusingly. “Why should we talk with them! They just steal and act like they build, I brought you guys here because you could help!”

 

“And you’re acting like a petulant child that isn’t getting what he wants,” Pharah said. “You can leave now if you want, we’ll actually get something done.”

 

Someone had hit the pause button on Lúcio, he just stood still as the MVTF members walked to the ramp of the Orca. Even Tracer, gushing about how she loved his music, now turned away and started talking to Brigitte.

 

“This was it?” Lúcio turned back to see Ignacio grabbing for Lúcio’s speaker. “Your father loved you, Lúcio, and this is how you repay his memory? By trying to destroy our homes when we tried to negotiate a peace?”

 

Lúcio pointed to the Orca. “Vishkar doesn’t want peace! What made you really think they were gonna just give us a chance to talk! They didn’t listen to my dad, why would they listen to us!”

 

Ignacio shook his head. “Go home, Lúcio. Once you remember this is about the favelas and not your father, then we can work together again.”

 

Lúcio stood rooted to his spot for a minute, watching as Ignacio went to join Overwatch and discuss the next moves. There wasn’t a thought in his mind, no feeling of anger anymore. Muted whispers coming from the group were all he heard. He shook his head a few times, trying to clear the cobwebs with no success. Letting out a breath, he turned and started shuffling to the doors, his people sadly letting him out and following him to the vans.

 

Ignacio shook his head. “His father was a brilliant man. He’s right, Vishkar did steal his work, but when Lúcio stole it back, went on his music tours, we thought he’d finally made something of himself.”

 

Teal’c nodded. “Long-held antagonism does not vanish so easily.”

 

Symmetra could only vaguely hear what was happening outside, but at the moment she wished desperately to be among the gray, even concrete rather than the disorganized horror that was the interior of the dropship. There was a basketball net with basketballs scattered about, a small corner booth smattered with tilted uneven pictures and half-drank bottles of foul soda and scattered playing cards that hurt to look at. O’Neill wasn’t helping as he paced in uneven steps around the cabin, waving his arms about with the story.

 

“So I’ve got the trout in my hands, and mean right out of the water in my hands, and the water’s freezing through to my bones. Now I’ve got to get this thing scaled, you ever scaled a fish? Well I don’t have my usual knife with me, and I’ve got to get this thing ready for dinner or I’m going hungry that night. Now I’ve got my pants soaked with water, my hands are freezing, it’s a blizzard outside and I’ve got to scale and gut the fish before it gets too late. So I start scaling, scales get everywhere, and that’s when I realize that I’ve got another fish on the line.”

 

Symmetra’s expression was far and away, her mind desperately trying to escape the fresh hell she was trapped in. O’Neill kept talking, going on about how he skewered a fresh, fat, slimy, wriggling worm onto a rusted hook covered in fish blood. Of how he repeated the gutting process again with cold, pinpricked hands that were frozen. The images flashed through her mind, transported to the worn, moldering fishing shack on the small lake in Minnesota as desperately as she tried to keep from going there.

 

“And now I’ve got the scales all over me, I’m ready to go back, but then I realize I’m missing one of my lures. Well, guess what, it was stuck in my arm and the barb is under the skin. Well, only one thing to do then, right? So I get the pliers and I shove that sucker right around, up through the other side and snip it off, pull the hook back out and now there’s blood-”

 

Symmetra shut her eyes and tried to ignore at least the sight of the interior, but O’Neill kept talking about pulling the hook out. She tried to cover her ears, but there was no point without her other arm. “Please, stop.”

 

O’Neill laughed. “But I’m just getting to the part about how I needed to dig a latrine, the pipes in the cabin froze and-”

 

“Please, stop.” Symmetra started to rock back and forth slightly, trying to focus on a two of diamonds face up on the table. Even askew in her eyes, it was at least symmetrical.

 

“Nah, maybe I can even take you up there. Don’t think the robots destroyed the lake I usually go to.” He blinked, and went to the door. “Hey, did the robots destroy Minnesota?”

 

McCree shouted back, “Nah, nothing was there to destroy.” O’Neill shrugged.

 

Symmetra tried to focus on the card, O’Neill droning on more about Minnesota and ice and fish guts. “You know, maybe we should talk about something else.” Symmetra looked up, waiting for the trap to be sprung. “Tell us how to stop Vishkar without getting anyone else hurt. Or blowing up any more hotels.”

 

Symmetra sneered. “You are working with that gutter trash Lúcio, it’s obvious you do not care for who gets hurt.”

 

O’Neill looked around the cabin. “Did I miss the part where our guys hired criminals to do our dirty work after blowing up a building?”

 

“We were simply using them,” Symmetra said placidly, too placid for O’Neill to feel comfortable about. “You think Vishkar would have let those degenerates run free once we show the city government how flawed their system for the favelas is?”

 

O’Neill paused, then went for the ramp. “Doc, you want to come up here?” Mercy came up the ramp, looking confused and worried with her hands tightly grasped around her kit. O’Neill checked that Symmetra was staying at the table still staring at the card. “Can you check to see if she’s on some kind of drug or something?”

 

Mercy whispered back. “What makes you think she’s on anything?”

 

“Well she’s not annoyed,” O’Neill said. “I mean this stuff’s broken KGB colonels, real sick guys, but she’s not showing any sign of breaking yet.”

 

Mercy looked to the woman, blinked and looked back at O’Neill for a second as she processed what he just said, then back to Symmetra. Taking a breath, Mercy walked over. “Hello, I’m Dr. Angela Ziegler. It’s nice to meet you Miss…”

 

“You may call me Symmetra,” she said, still staring at the cards. Slowly, she used her arm to begin organizing them. “Thank you, that man was atrocious.”

 

Mercy nodded, opening her kit. “He can seem difficult I’m sure. He is a good man though, he just wants to see the people in the favelas remain safe.”

 

“Then he should convince you all to leave and trust that we are making the right decisions,” Symmetra said, quickly organizing the deck of cards by suit, number, and color. “These favelas, the entire ‘City of God’ is nothing more than a landfill of humanity. If Vishkar could be allowed to do what it needs to, we would build a new city worth living in for these people.”

 

Mercy took out a penlight and ran it over Symmetra’s eyes, Symmetra flinching a little at the light. “Didn’t the people here have any say in what would happen?”

 

Symmetra went back to the cards. “They let themselves fall into such a situation. Clearly they cannot be left to make a better city on their own.”

 

Symmetra’s eyes dilated normally, and Mercy took out a blood pressure monitor. “Then why do they seem to have such a devoted effort to not letting Vishkar rebuild their neighborhoods?”

 

“I cannot imagine why,” Symmetra said, not struggling or pulling away as Mercy wrapped the gauge around her arm. “If they wish to be foolish, that is their decision. Vishkar already bought the land, and will do what it believes is necessary to make it profitable.”

 

Mercy read the pressure and nodded. 115 over 78, perfectly average. “So they’ll be allowed to remain in their same address? Allowed to find work?”

 

“Vishkar will provide them employment in exchange for continued residence,” Symmetra said, nearly finished with making four stacks of cards. “The same that they did for me.”

 

Mercy thought as she put the blood pressure gauge back. “You don’t care that people are being hurt? People are being hurt, losing their homes and lives. This is acceptable to you?”

 

Symmetra didn’t react, sliding one last errant card into place. “If it makes for a better future, then I will do what I can to facilitate it.”

 

Mercy nodded, gathering up her things. “Well you’re certainly in perfect health. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Shouldering her bag, she walked past O’Neill and nodded for Reinhardt to take his place back before the door. Hurrying down the ramp, she set her bag down and went to the team now gathered around Ignacio. “Jesse, you said that you saw that woman before?”

 

“Yeah, when we were out in town scouting.” McCree tapped some ash off his cigar. “We got to talking, she didn’t seem to much like my arm or the fact that we were here to help the locals. Didn’t much like Fareeha here playing some old rock’n’roll neither.”

 

Bolin thought for a second. “No, no I don’t think she was annoyed. Actually, she looked like she was almost in pain.”

 

Mercy turned to Bolin. “Was there a lot of activity at the time?”

 

Bolin nodded. “Yeah, there was. I mean there were kids playing and laughing and shouting, Pharah was playing guitar, and McCree kept talking to her-”

 

Mercy nodded. “Thank you Bolin, you’ve told me everything I need to hear.”

 

O’Neill tramped down the ramp. “Well you wanna tell me?”

 

“Colonel, are you familiar with autism?”

 

O’Neill shrugged. “Isn’t it some kind of mental deal?”

 

Mercy sighed, realizing that she’d have to patiently explain. “Autism is a developmental disorder. Those with it have trouble with social interactions, relating to other people emotionally. Did you notice her and the deck of cards? She was organizing them, she couldn’t stand to see them out of place. I’d guess that the interior of the Orca isn’t doing her any favors right now.”

 

O’Neill rolled his eyes. “She tried to kill us, I’m not about to make her more comfortable.”

 

“I’m not saying we should give her the prosthetic back,” Mercy said. “I do believe however that we need to try and give her space to be at ease. Depending on where she is on the spectrum of autistic behavior, she could worsen the longer we keep her here, it could do irreparable damage.”

 

O’Neill was about to argue when Pharah and McCree started waving him off behind Mercy with matching fearful expressions. “Ooookay, we’ll make her comfortable but we’re not letting her loose.” Mercy nodded, still looking serious but satisfied enough to walk off. “Alright, we’ll need to start hitting the gangs on their home turf. Ignacio, you’ll need to start hitting city hall. Marches, petitions, anything and everything to tie them up and keep Vishkar busy.”

 

“That won’t be a problem,” Ignacio said, looking at O’Neill nervously as he watched the man check his pistol. “What will you do with the gangs?”

 

“Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.” O’Neill slammed a magazine home.

* * *

 _As Pistolas_ looked out into the night, a lone flatscreen broadcasting the news from the day as they locked the doors and barricaded the windows.

 

“ _Another string of takedowns by Overwatch has left the favelas almost cleared of gang activity,_ ” the anchorwoman said, her Omnic co-anchor nodding to the camera. “ _Present estimates believe that since their arrival, Overwatch has contributed to the arrest and dismantling of at least nine different gangs known to operate within the City of God._ ”

 

“Well they won’t get ten,” the gang leader growled, shoving two pistols into his shoulder holsters, two into holsters behind his back, and two on his hips. His belt was ringed with ammunition pouches, and as he checked the two pistols in his hands he looked over the gang’s safehouse. “If any one of you fails tonight, I’ll make sure your mothers have to close the casket!”

 

The gang members themselves were too worried about the state of their defense to even care about the threat. Their three story safehouse was fortified with welded plates over the windows and steel bars across the doors. A small stolen fusion generator ran in a corner, keeping the lights on and the chargers running to keep the gang connected to the outside. Each man carried his pistols ready, peeking through the holes in the armor.

 

“How do we know they’re coming for us,” one of the younger gangsters whispered. “What if they leave us alone?”

 

“Like hell,” another man snarled. “First there’s a march, then there’s another strike. Look at what happened to _Os Açougueiros_. There’s a march through their territory, then that night they get wiped out. ” The gang member glared down at the now-empty streets. “There’s a march down that street today, they’re coming for us tonight. Everyone knew it.” The younger man shuddered. It was true, the oft-packed safehouse had emptied the second the march had appeared. Gang members had silently, swiftly thrown off their holsters and slipped out the back doors to disappear into the crowds. Despite the defection, the gang still held a core of thirty-five waiting to fight and survive long enough for Vishkar to pay for their services.

 

The gang waited, pacing and rocking back and forth for the attack. Fingers flicked at safeties, or traced along the trigger guard. One man sat at a table, rocking back and forth trying to not sweat through his clothes. All the while the TV droned on. “ _City officials, while noting the success of Overwatch’s actions, continue to emphasize that vigilante action such as the type carried out is still illegal and punishable by law._ ”

 

A trash can banged outside, and two of the gang started firing. The gang leader rushed up and pulled them away from the window they were at. “You idiots! What if that was Overwatch, you just marked yourselves for their snipers!”

 

“We were trying to scare whoever that was,” one of the men said, trying to pull himself together. “We know they’re out there, why not frighten them-”

 

“Overwatch doesn’t get frightened,” the gang leader barked. “Keep your eyes open, don’t give yourselves away before they attack!”

 

A crash rocked the apartments from the first floor, gunfire popping off from downstairs as the gang panicked. Shouts and screams called out from the first floor, rounds ripping through from underneath the floor, the gang shouting out and hopping around as one of them threw what spare metal plates he could find on the floor. There was a crunch from downstairs, and seconds after a hole appeared in the floor one of the gang members from the first floor suddenly appeared headfirst in the empty space wedged into the floor. The man’s head lolled about, his eyes unfocused as his mouth worked silently with his shoulders barely sticking out above the floor.

 

“The hell with this,” one of the gangsters shouted, scrambling for the stairs to the third floor. Before he could even make the stairs, his leader snarled and riddle the man’s back with rounds.

 

“None of you run,” the leader barked, training his pistols on the men he could see. “Any of you tries to run, you’ll _wish_ you faced Overwatch! ”

 

Another impact shook the building, and screams erupted from the third floor. More pistol fire, more crashes and shudders from above. A scream, then strangled cries as a man came rolling hard down the stairs. The man let out a plaintive groan, weakly trying to right himself before giving up in a heap on the floor.

 

Roaring again, the gang leader stormed to the stairs and started firing up to the third floor. When his first pair of pistols ran empty, he drew his second pair from his shoulder holsters. When those ran out, he pulled the pair at his hips and fired up through the floor. When those ran dry he drew the two behind his back and, still roaring, shot wildly at everything that he saw. His men dropped to the floor or behind whatever cover they had, waiting until the bullets stopped flying to dare and look up.

 

“You want to play with me?!” The gang leader had gone far and away now, the look in his eyes was not that of a rational man. “Come out cowards, you’re afraid to fight!”

 

There was a clanking sound from the stairs to the third floor. Everyone looked to each other, trying to figure out if maybe it was Overwatch’s knight. How’d he get to the third floor? Wasn’t he a massive walking tank of a man?

 

A figure came into view, preceded by a blue glow in the stairwell. The gang tried to hold their pistols up, their shaking hands betraying their terror. As the light got brighter, there was more clanking from the first floor. The man with his head sticking out of the floor groaned as he shifted, something shoving him from below.

 

“Fight damn you,” the gang leader barked. “What are you all waiting for! You’re not heroes, you’re cowards!”

 

A massive armored hand broke the floor underneath the gang leader, the man screaming defiantly as he was ripped down to the first floor. It was cut off half a second later, leaving the remaining gang members sweating fearfully and barely holding on to their pistols. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned, all of you need to thrown down your weapons and surrender.”

 

The voice was clearly foreign, American, and in any other situation the gang would’ve answered back for the man to screw off and die. Not tonight, not after what happened to their fellows. One after another, they dropped their pistols and waited, hearing the armored figured come from both sets of stairs.

 

The figure on the third floor was a woman in orange armor with a blue energy shield coming out of her left arm. The one from the first floor was a figure in bright blue armor, carrying a pistol that looked nothing like what someone in such advanced body armor would be wearing. Both women had zip-ties hanging from their armor, and with their pistols motioned for the men to kneel on the floor. Solemnly, the last real threat in the favelas surrendered.

* * *

O’Neill grinned as they looked over the news over the past two weeks. Sightings of an angel in the skies over the favela “blowing up on YouTube”. Stories from the OD’s from around the favela telling of how they were somehow saved from dying through a golden glow. Pictures of the teams working with the locals to eliminate the gangs, and of Ignacio speaking to massed crowds of surging locals calling for a new plan to redevelop the favelas. “Looks like we’re doing pretty well.”

 

“I can’t believe this,” Ignacio said, smiling as he looked over the editorials calling for Vishkar to step down. “Their stock prices have even stumbled. We actually have a chance.” The others nodded, the room around them filled with banners and posters proclaiming, “Rights for the Favela!”

 

“It is because of your leadership that the people feel they have hope,” Teal’c said. “We may have facilitated, but your connection with the people of these neighborhoods has told them they do indeed have a voice.”

 

“And the gangs are too terrified to do anything at this point,” Mako said, tapping on a newspaper that had a picture of one of the arrests involving a gang that loved to use blades. He liked that picture in particular, of Bolin standing heroically in front of the camera and looking back at the bound gang as their hideout melted into a pool of lava. “I think we finally broke them, what’s left to do?”

 

“We have to take our case before the Municipal Chamber,” Ignacio said proudly. “We’ll march in two days, straight through the tourists and to the Pedro Ernesto Palace. They won’t be able to deny us after that.”

 

“And Vishkar hasn’t been able to hit back once,” Bolin mentioned, before pausing and suddenly looking nervous. “Is that a bad sign?”

 

“Well we’re holding one of their people and tore apart their network of gangs,” Korra said, leaning back in a chair with a grin. “All things considered, I’m surprised they didn’t just give up the second that lady didn’t get back to them. Is she still doing okay?”

 

“Without her prosthetic and with a watch she’s not a threat,” Mercy said. “McCree even mentioned that she’s spending her time actually cleaning up the Orca.”

 

O’Neill shrugged. “Well we’re pay her gratuity when we’re done here. Is there anything else to wrap up?”

 

Pharah shook her head as she went over the pictures from the mission, a wide smile on her face. “I think all we need to do is escort the march. After that-”

 

The door to the room burst open, and Lúcio strode in with his people behind him. “Hey my people, what’s good?”

 

O’Neill groaned. “Didn’t he learn his lesson?”

 

“You’re right, I did,” Lúcio said, smiling as he grabbed O’Neill’s shoulder. “You guys gave me a reality check, and now I’ve got my head right.”

 

Daniel looked to the others and nodded. “Oh, well, uh that’s great Lúcio. So, what did you want to talk to us about?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lúcio said happily. “It’s already set to go.”

 

Daniel blinked. “What is?”

 

“The big concert!” Lúcio spread his arms wide and smiled. It didn’t strike him that he was the only person in the room who was. “I’m holding a free concert, getting some _real_ attention back to the favelas. Everyone’s invited, and I want you to be up on stage with me Ignacio!”

 

Ignacio’s jaw fell open so wide that Reinhardt could charge through it. “You what?!”

 

“I’ve got it all planned out too, we hold it in _Quinta da Boa Vista_. Tourists, locals, all together partying out like crazy!” Lúcio walked to Teal’c and Korra, shaking them excitedly despite their stares. “It’s already lit, everyone’s talking about it.”

 

O’Neill looked confused. “What good are spotlights gonna do?”

 

Pharah sighed. “It’s what we explained to you about social media O’Neill.” Taking out her phone, Pharah quickly opened up a browser and showed him the news. “Lúcio, I know you want to help but we already have a march planned. The gangs are broken, they’re either in jail or hiding.”

 

“I know, but that’s why we need to have this right?” Lúcio walked over to Ignacio, his smile beaming as he gripped Ignacio’s shoulders. “We throw the biggest party this city’s ever seen, show Vishkar they can't win. The entire world will be watching, and they’ll know we’ve got this.”

 

“No, terrible idea,” O’Neill barked. “You put yourself out there like that on a stage and you’re begging for every sniper in three miles to put a bullet through your head.”

 

“That’s why you guys are here though!” Lúcio turned a kept smiling, no trace of recognition of what the team was hearing on his face. “While the concert’s pumping you can keep guard, find anyone who wants to ruin this.”

 

Ignacio turned Lúcio back around. “Lúcio, do you realize how dangerous this is? Vishkar hasn’t said they’ve given up, they could still try to stop us from petitioning the chamber.”

 

“That’s why we’ve gotta do this,” Lúcio said. “How can they take us on when we’re the ones partying and celebrating? Plus it’s already paid for, nothing’s gonna stop it from happening.”

 

Pharah leaned over to O’Neill. “If we try to cancel this we’d lose a lot of public support. Lúcio is a celebrity, having him run this concert might be the final push we need to win over the last public opinion we’d need.”

 

“And leave the kid open to a sniper,” O’Neill whispered back. “We let this go on and we’re basically responsible for an assassination.”

 

“Not if we take to the rooftops and keep an eye on things from there,” Pharah said. “Vishkar won’t use a bomb in the middle of such a crowd, that would destroy Rio’s reputation as a tourism hotspot. The gangs are decimated, the favelas are mobilized, and this brings attention by the wider world. Vishkar has nowhere they can hit back. I can patrol with my armor, Tracer can move between the rooftops, and as long as Brigitte and Reinhardt have a car they can move between buildings easily.”

 

O’Neill looked over at Korra. “You think bending can help protect whoever’s on stage?”

 

Korra nodded. “With some airbending I’ll be able to move just as fast as Fareeha.”

 

“We can also keep a team with Symmetra,” Pharah said. “If they try to break her out, we’ll at least be able to put up a fight and make them work for it.”

 

O’Neill shook his head. “This is just a setup, they’ve gotta know about this and they’ll have someone somewhere to take him out.”

 

“Well what else are we gonna do,” Korra said, as Lúcio kept talking up the concert to everyone that would listen. “There’s gonna be hundreds, thousands of people outside that park. If Lúcio doesn’t actually pull off this concert it might lose us sympathy from the wealthy in the city.” She blinked. “Oh my goodness I’m thinking about politics, this is so weird.”

 

“It’s not wrong though,” Pharah said. “I agree that Lúcio is being grandiose, but it might be worth the risk.”

 

O’Neill groaned. “’Fer crying out loud, alright.” Turning, he clapped his hands. “Alright kid, you want a show? You’ve got it. It’s on you though, this ain’t Overwatch associated.” Pharah and Ignacio both looked to O’Neill, but didn’t question the qualifier.

 

“Hey, I’m just here to help the favelas,” Lúcio said, still smiling. “We’re gonna show Vishkar they can’t beat us as long as we’re partying.”

 

O’Neill shook his head as Lúcio turned to talk more with Ignacio. “Okay, time to start scoping out those buildings nearest to the park.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

 

Mercy walked about the warehouse, McCree and Bolin playing another round of poker while Asami repaired her gauntlet and Mako slept on a small cot. “She’s being rather quiet.”

 

“Well you’re the one who took away everything that she could use to off herself,” McCree said, grinning as he drew his fourth card. “If she ain’t in there when you check on her, well that’s one less problem for us right?”

 

Bolin paused. “That’s…a little dark.”

 

“Well it’s true too.” McCree grinned as he looked his cards over. “I mean she’s the one who wanted to blow us all to pieces, or just let us wind up smeared on the bottom of the hotel.” Bolin grimaced at the reminders. “Now c’mon, draw would ya?”

 

As Bolin sighed and drew another card, Mercy shook her head. Walking over to Asami, Mercy kept looking up the ramp. “How are you doing?”

 

Asami gave a small smile. “A little better actually. I mean I still need to talk to Korra about what I’ve been feeling, but I think I’ll be okay.” Asami turned the gauntlet over. “Do you think this concert is really gonna do anything?”

 

“Every company can feel public pressure,” Mercy said calmly. “You felt it didn’t you? I heard from some of the SGC staff that you were trying to make Future Industries friendlier to the people in Republic City.”

 

“True,” Asami said, putting a hex key down and slipping the gauntlet on. Flexing her fingers, she nodded and set the device to the side. “I was gonna take a walk around the warehouse, check on things, join me?”

 

“Take Bolin,” Mercy paused. “Take McCree with you.” Mercy leaned in close. “McCree always peeks at the cards.” Asami nodded and got up, calling to McCree as Mercy walked up the ramp.

 

The interior of the Orca was cleaner than Mercy could ever remember it. The pictures above the small booth were all organized into a neat rectangle, the books stacked by thickness and empty bottles placed in a corner. The basketballs were all arranged properly by how inflated they were, and in the middle of the bay was their prisoner. She danced, moving gracefully as she knelt down, bent her knees, her arm flowing with an inaudible rhythm. Mercy easily filled in the missing space of her left arm, smiling. “ _If she’s dancing, she’s coping well enough. Hopefully we can release her after this._ ”

 

Symmetra finished by lunging forward, turning her chest left and raising her right arm above her head. She wasn’t even breathing hard or sweating as she rose. “Are you here to check on me?”

 

“I’m a doctor,” Mercy said politely. “The first words of the Hippocratic Oath are ‘Do no harm’.”

 

“Yet you fight for a city filled with sickness.” Symmetra turned away and walked to the booth. “Does it not bother you that these people live in squalor every minute?”

 

“They’re also still people with thoughts and opinions and their own wants.” Mercy walked over to the booth and kept her expression passive. “Vishkar treating them like obstacles is why we were called in the first place.”

 

“And by the agitator,” Symmetra said. “He is preventing Vishkar from doing for this entire city what they did for me.”

 

Mercy nodded. “They gave you a job?”

 

“They gave me a life,” Symmetra said. “I grew up in slums, living in poverty and filth. Vishkar came, built Utopea, taught to become an architect.”

 

Mercy smiled a little. “Your parents must be very proud.”

 

“I would not know,” Symmetra said, reaching over to adjust one of the pictures. “I have not seen them since I was a child. If they did not move into one of Vishkar’s cities, I can only presume they remain in the filth of Hyderabad.”

 

Mercy didn’t hear any trace of emotion or ache in Symmetra’s words. Body language was useless too, Symmetra didn’t seem to be torn up by the comment she’d made. “So Vishkar is your world now?”

“Inaccurate,” Symmetra said, almost sounding bored. “Vishkar is seeking to make a better world. To give people a purpose beyond simply reproduction and consumption. Overwatch failed to do so, now we must step in and take the place of those that could not.”

 

It stung. Mercy hid it but it still stung. Symmetra wasn’t wrong, Overwatch had failed the world, no one denied it. After the fall she’d done her best in the Middle East and tried to not notice whenever someone threw mud on the names of those she’d fought alongside. “Vishkar isn’t perfect either. You can’t have approved of their using gangs like they did, it isn’t something that I see a person like you approving of.”

 

“What Vishkar approves and carries out is for the betterment of the company,” Symmetra said, finished readjusting the pictures. “You cannot understand what we are in fact making a better world.”

 

Mercy shook her head. “The children that have to live with the consequences of what Vishkar has done might disagree.” As she turned and walked back out of the Orca, Mercy had no idea just how hard she’d hit Symmetra.

* * *

[O’Neill cringed as he listened to the distant thumping of the concert.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_wW4hu5JDg) “What the hell kind of music is that?”

 

Tracer laughed over the radio. “ _It’s called dubstep, never heard of it?_ ”

 

“No, we actually have good music back in 2001.” Groaning, O’Neill went back to patrolling the rooftop and trying to shut out the sounds of whatever Lúcio was trying to excuse as a song. The teams were spread out among the rooftops, Reinhardt standing by in a truck downstairs in case they needed to make a rapid exit or reposition. Pharah and Korra flew between the rooftops, trying to cover as much space as possible as the teams handled patrols.

 

O'Neill saw Teal’c glared at the concert, flashing pumping strobe lights highlighting a crowd that stretched around the central manor inside the park. “ _This music is most disturbing O’Neill._ ”

 

O’Neill didn’t disagree. It sounded like the techno club beats that were popular in Berlin in the 80s, but what Lúcio was doing sounded more like he was making a “Wub-wub-wub” sound over the sound system. Still, O’Neill had to admire the showmanship. The kid was using some kind of motion sensor to control the music, moving his hands over holograms in mid-air as he skated and danced around the stage to the roars of the crowd. Occasionally he’d step back and let one of his guys step up to rap or try their own hand, but he was the one running the show.

 

“Everyone stay focused,” O’Neill radioed. “If we’re really lucky for a change then we’ll go through this night only listening to some bad music.”

 

Brigitte came over the channel. “ _Do you always have a comment? Some of us actually like him, you know._ ”

 

“ _Oh, you like Lúcio too!_ ” O’Neill saw Tracer blink over to Brigitte’s position and watched as the two women excitedly spoke about whatever the hell that was down there that was supposed to be music.

 

“Jack, you know that we should be lucky,” Daniel said, watching the event from a pair of binoculars. “Lúcio’s moving around so much that I don’t think anyone could land a shot on him.”

 

O’Neill nodded. “Still won’t rest easy until Ignacio gets to city hall tomorrow. Carter, you have anything?” Silence. “Carter? Carter, you okay?” Looking over to Carter’s rooftop, O’Neill saw Carter laying prone facing the concert. “Jeez, Daniel can you go get Carter?” More silence. “Daniel?” Turning, the last thing O’Neill saw was a rifle butt slamming into his face.

 

Korra landed on a rooftop and turned to the park, making sure that the situation was still clear. Lúcio was spinning around in a circle, spreading his legs until he was flat on the stage before pulling them together and pushing himself up with a wide smile. The crowd roared, but Korra turned back to the buildings. There was nothing immediately jumping out at her, no sign of any assassins sighting in on Lúcio or moving into position. “Teal’c, anything for you?” Nothing on the radio. “Teal’c?” Looking over to Teal’c’s position, Korra flew over when she didn’t see any movement. “Teal’c, you okay?”

A fist came flying at her, Korra blocking it and jumping back to see a figure raise a rifle at her in the darkness. Korra batted the barrel away from her face and tried to pull it from the shooter, but wound up dodging an elbow flying at her face. Korra grabbed her enemy’s arm and swung her out from behind cover, revealing a slim woman in a skintight outfit with a ponytail going down to her waist. Korra couldn’t help but grin. “Wow, you look stupid.”

 

The woman sneered at Korra and jumped back, raising her rifle. Korra didn’t give the chance and airbent her to the edge of the roof. The woman rolled with the wind and shot a cable from her arm. Before Korra realized what happened the woman went flying off the rooftop, landing two buildings over and running for the edge of the roof.

 

“Pharah, we’ve got one of those sniper things!” Korra ran around a massive humming metal block to see Teal’c splayed out on the ground unconscious. Checking his pulse, Korra nodded. “I think SG-1 are all down, I’m going after this one.”

 

“ _I’ll be there in a blink,_ ” Tracer shouted over the radio. “ _I think I know this one._ ”

 

Korra blasted herself up into the air, following the dark form of the sniper to where she’d landed. The second she landed though, she had to roll behind the stairwell to dodge from a barrage from the sniper. “I need some help, where are you Tracer!”

 

“ _Look right!_ ”

 

Korra saw it out of the corner of her eye, a blue after-image bounding across the rooftops. Grinning, Korra sent a blast of wind at the sniper, who flinched away and went back to firing at Korra. Korra just grinned as Tracer laughed and came across the ceilings shooting. The sniper started running, Korra breaking from cover and running for the edge of the roof. “ _She’s gonna use that thing again, I can get in front of her and-_ ”

 

The sniper spread her arms and dived off the roof, only to spin around and shoot the cable from her wrist and whip from falling to the ground to flying above Korra’s head. Detaching it from the roof the sniper aimed it at a taller building to the left. “Oh no, you’re not getting away that easy.” With a running start, Korra grabbed Tracer and sent herself flying upward. Tracer laughed, blinking forward and firing her pistols as she rolled onto the rooftop. Korra landed feet away, watching as the sniper hid behind cover.

 

Korra grabbed her radio. “Pharah, where are you?”

 

“ _Check your Six!_ ”

 

Turning, Korra saw Pharah flying up with pistol in-hand. The sniper turned to face the threat, and as Korra watched the rifle transformed. Pharah saw it too and cut her jets, dropping just as the round screamed above where her head had been. Keeping her face away from the rifle, she shouted to Korra. “We can’t let her take the shot, keep Lúcio safe!”

 

Korra nodded, sprinting to the sniper’s position as Tracer kept her distracted. The sniper turned to face Korra, barely dodging Korra’s fists. The two went hand-to-hand, Korra ducking kicks and punches as fast as the sniper was throwing them. “ _She’s good,_ ” Korra thought, deflecting a cross. “ _She’s fast, but she probably can’t take a hit. Just need to land one and she’s down._ ”

 

“Alright, now the man of the hour!” Lúcio’s voice echoed over the air, the roar of the crowd dying down. As he spoke, Tracer tried to charge only for a bomb to go off in her path that enveloped her in a choking purple cloud. Tracer started hacking, crawling away from the blast as Korra realized her chrono-thing wasn’t glowing blue. Pharah rushed forward, and Korra rolled away to let the armored soldier take care of the sniper. Dispersing the cloud, Korra knelt down and checked her pulse. “Tracer, Tracer c’mon, talk to me.”

 

“I’ll be okay,” Tracer wheezed. “Go get her!”

 

Korra nodded, turning back and rushing for the sniper. Pharah and the sniper dueled almost like a dance, Pharah swinging and kicking as the sniper twirled and wove through the attacks. The sniper didn’t bother trying to strike Pharah, the armor would’ve broken her hands. The sniper kept jumping back, sneering as Korra rushed up with a flurry of shots to the head. She deflected them all while still dodging around Pharah. “ _She’s not trying to fight,_ ” Korra thought. “ _She’s off-balance. We just need to hold out a little longer and we’ve got her._ ”

 

Pharah tried to make a grab for the woman, but the sniper was too swift. She jumped back and jumped off again, shooting her cable onto another building and swinging away. As Pharah tracked the sniper, Korra looked down to the stage and realized that Lúcio was standing still, letting Ignacio speak about the march. Looking back to the sniper, Korra saw the woman lining up her shot as she hung from the cable. “Pharah!” Pharah saw too, and blasted off for the sniper.

 

Korra saw it, the sniper squeezing the trigger, several red lights on her forehead turning her into a spider-fly with four limbs. As Pharah flew over, Korra started airbending.

 

The rifle cracked, but as the sniper pulled herself up she was glaring at her target.

 

Korra smiled. She knew that she couldn't airbend the bullet once the sniper had fired, but she could create such a powerful wind that it would never reach the stage in the first place. Lúcio and Ignacio were still on stage, Ignacio now speaking so passionately that the crowd was cheering like mad against Vishkar. The sniper turned and started firing at Korra, but Brigitte ran up and opened her shield. “Are you alright?”

 

“Fine,” Korra said with a grin. “Let’s-”

 

Spotlights illuminated the rooftop, a black aircraft with red lights and a front hovering nearby. The sniper sneered again and ran, Pharah adjusting her course too late to make the grab. Korra watched as she shot the cable again, snagging the underside of the aircraft and flying under it to the other side. The aircraft whined and shot off into the night then, no trace it had ever been there at all.

 

The hacking brought Korra back. “Tracer!” Bounding up, Korra ran over to see Tracer trying to hold herself up. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Reaching out, Korra pulled some water from a rooftop tank and ran it over Tracer. “I’m not the best healer, but you’ll be alright until we can get you to Dr. Ziegler.”

 

Tracer half-laughed, half-choked. “Two beautiful women taking care of me? I must be in heaven.”

 

Pharah barely heard the exchange, she had jetted between SG-1’s positions. Checking Carter’s pulse, she let out a sigh. Four for four. “SG-1 are unhurt, just unconscious. I don’t think they wanted to shoot any more than they had to here.”

 

“ _That doesn’t make sense,_ ” Brigitte radioed. “ _If we’ve been stopping them from finishing their work, why leave them alive? If they were silent enough to knock them all out without us realizing-_ ”

 

“They could have easily killed them without our realizing.” Standing, Pharah watched as Lúcio continued with the concert as Ignacio left the stage to roaring applause. “Tell Reinhardt to get to the Orca, we need Mercy here as fast as he can drive.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

 

O’Neill rubbed at his left cheek, a massive bruise covering the entire left side of his face. Still, seeing the marchers cheering the city’s legislature unanimous vote to halt work on the favelas and take input from the residents? Made the pain a little more bearable.

 

Lúcio translated as Ignacio spoke to the jammed streets. “He’s saying that since they have input, they’ll focus on getting reliable water and electricity to the favelas,” he said, looking no worse for wear after a long night of playing to the crowd. “As that’s going on, he’ll work with the city to make sure that construction keeps a pace with the jobs being brought in. A lot of it will be construction and trade work, able to teach the people some valuable skills.”

 

Daniel painfully rubbed at the back of his neck. “Great, that means we won’t have to worry about things here for a little while?”

 

“We’ll monitor the situation,” Pharah said happily. “If the city starts to renegade on the decision or Vishkar starts making any more trouble, we’ll move in to assist.”

 

Carter rubbed at her neck too, the bruises from Widowmaker's cable choking her out more defined after a few hours rest. “Great, so can we get home? Dr. Frasier’s not gonna be happy to see us like this.” Teal’c nodded, holding an ice pack over a blackened right eye.

 

“Yeah, we’ll be fine from here,” Lúcio said, walking with the team back to the warehouse. “Hey, Mako? I’m sorry. You were right, should’ve been up front with you guys about what was happening.”

 

“Well I owe you an apology too,” Mako said, catching Lúcio by surprise. “After everything that’s happened, it’s obvious that Vishkar was never interested in negotiation. Everything they did was more than intimidation.”

 

Lúcio smiled a little. “So, you think I can be more help? I mean if this is all the people in Overwatch, maybe I can help out?”

 

Pharah shook her head. “Not happening.” Everyone could see Lúcio’s heart falling as Pharah went on. “You’re too impulsive, and your personal feelings affect your actions too heavily. We need to build a new reputation for reliability, and those are too dangerous to what we’re trying to do.” Pharah gave Lúcio a smile. “Once you get that under control, then we can talk about convincing Winston you might be able to help us.” Everyone got to watch Lúcio’s heart shoot right back up again.

 

As the team moved to the vans, Asami took a breath. “Korra, can we talk for a second?” Korra looked to O’Neill, who gave a nod and signaled for the teams to load up and wait. “So, something’s been bothering me the past few weeks.”

 

Korra gave a gentle smile. “It wasn’t hard to tell babe.”

 

Asami smiled back sheepishly. “Fair enough. Well listen, when we were in Oasis, when we had to take on those two criminals.”

 

Korra nodded. “And you shot that one.”

 

Asami shook her head, turning away from Korra. “I know it had to happen, he was reloading that weapon he had and if I hadn’t squeezed the trigger he might’ve killed someone.” Asami leaned against a building and pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “It’s why I’ve had such problems sleeping when you aren’t next to me.”

 

Korra gently turned Asami to face her. “Asami, I don’t hate you for what happened. I’m the Avatar, in the past the Avatar has had to choose between the life of one person and the lives of many.” Pulling Asami close, Korra put her forehead to her girlfriend. “I could never judge you for doing what you had to, if you did it to protect someone else.”

 

Asami nodded, shutting her eyes. “I was so worried about what you thought of me, even after you would sleep with me at night I didn’t know what you were thinking.”

 

Korra nodded. “Then I’ll talk with you about it. If you need to talk, I’ll listen.” Korra waited for Asami to open her eyes. “Just like you promised me after the Red Lotus.”

 

Tracer watched the talk and smiled. “Awwww. They are just the cutest couple. ‘Side from Emily and me, course.”

 

O’Neill groaned, settling into the passenger seat of one of the vans. “Let’s just get back to the Orca, how long can you keep that staff working doc?”

 

“My staff can function as long as necessary,” Mercy said, shaking her head and smiling. “You know, if you keep making that face it’ll freeze that way.” O’Neill mockingly laughed as they drove back to the warehouse.

 

Bolin and McCree stood there, waiting for them with Symmetra outside the doors. McCree looked sullen, Bolin smiling wide as he held Symmetra’s arm in-hand. Symmetra still had a blank expression. “Well that’s new,” Daniel said as he got out of the car. “What happened?”

 

“Well we were actually playing for money,” Bolin said. “I wasn’t doing so great, then I got a Royal Flush and cleaned him out!” Bolin held up the cash excitedly with all three hands. “And he owes me one free foot rub.”

 

McCree rolled his eyes. “Can we get on with this?”

 

Mercy nodded, checking over the connections between the arm and Symmetra’s shoulder. “Can you flex your fingers for me?” Symmetra did so. “Rotation?” The arm rotated a full 360. “Fine motor control?” Mercy held out a grape, Symmetra easily reaching out and taking it without crushing it. “The basics are fine, your arm is in perfect working order.”

 

“No thanks to you.” Satisfied that her arm was reattached, Symmetra said nothing as she quickly set off into the city again.

 

Teal’c tracked her as she left. “I do not believe this wise O’Neill, she remains unrepentant of her actions against us.”

 

O’Neill shrugged. “She’s no better than Aris Boch, Teal’c. C’mon, let’s get that staff running.”

* * *

Symmetra sat silently before Sanjay, waiting for him to speak. It had been an hour, but it was his office and she had been the one at fault. “Your efforts have been recognized, and overall the failure of the operation does not rest on you.” Sanjay didn’t look up from his computer as he spoke. “Regardless, this was a failure.”

 

“I will not let it happen again,” Symmetra said. “I will do whatever I am asked, I will correct this discrepancy.”

 

“I’m glad to see that is your attitude,” Sanjay said, finally turning to Symmetra. “The Board has decided that you are to remain in Rio. Despite the failure of our operations here we still have several contracts with local companies that we must carry out.”

 

Symmetra froze for a moment. “I am to remain in this city, for how long?”

 

Sanjay rose and moved for the door. “As long as is necessary.” Leaving Symmetra to ponder the consequences, he pulled out his second small cell phone. “Where is he now?”

 

“ _Moving,_ ” the raspy voice on the other end answered. “ _We’re planning our assault on the convoy now. She’s not happy._ ”

 

“She shouldn’t be, after what I learned about her actions in London there should have been no failures last night.” Entering the elevator, Sanjay turned to see Satya leaving his office with look on her face he’d never seen before. Sadness? That was probably the closest thing he’d call it. “Things are about to change. We must be ready for when they do.”

* * *

“Winston?”

 

Winston turned to see Mei walking over, dressed for bed but looking wide awake. “Mei, what’s wrong?”

 

“I just was wondering about something you said before everyone left,” she said, walking over to Winston’s desk. “That group of people, SG-1, you said they came from a dimension where it’s 2001?”

 

Winston nodded. “Yes, it appears that time in the multiverse is rather fluid-”

 

“Do we need to worry about it?”

 

Winston blinked. “What do you mean?”

 

Mei started wringing her hands, looking down at the floor as she walked over. “I don’t know if they’re another dimension, or another timeline, but I remember that a lot of bad things are about to happen to them over the next few years if their history is so much like our own.”

 

Winston laughed. “Well, for a start if we’d have any history of dealing with aliens and stargates we would’ve been able to track it with our own equipment,” Winston said, smiling to help Mei feel more at ease. “I understand your concerns Mei, but I’ve already made several calculations and measurements. SG-1’s dimension is most certainly not connected to our own timeline.”

 

Mei smiled, nodding and walked up to give Winston a hug. “It’s been hard, realizing how much time has passed. Fareeha leading a team, just like her mother, and now we have these other dimensions to look at, sometimes I don’t feel like I actually woke up. That I’m still in the chamber dreaming.”

 

Winston wrapped his arms around Mei. “I promise you’re here, with us. We’re a family again, Mei, and no one will be left behind anymore. You’re back with us, and that’s what matters.”

 

Mei nodded, burying her face into Winston’s fur. “It’s so good to see everyone.” Winston nodded, letting Mei pull away. “Overwatch being heroes again, it does sound good doesn’t it?”

 

Winston nodded. “It sounds perfect.” Waving as Mei went to get some sleep, Winston’s smile collapsed and he turned to his console again. “Athena, record a message. Gen. Vollmer…”


End file.
